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MECHAN'CAL PERIOD, 



(Mechanical Stas^A 



THE 
ART OF RENDERING 

A condensed and comprehensive treatise on the culture 

of the Three-fold Nature and the Mental 

Method of Reading and Speaking 

To be used in connection with 

FENNO'S SCIENCE OF SPEECH 

Comprising 
Chart of Delsartean Trinities, Aesthetic Physical Culture, 
Physiology and Culture of Breath and Voice, Gesture, 
Sixteen Steps in Rendering with Analyses and Classi- 
cal Studies for Practice, Charts and Illustrations. 
Designed to be used as a text-book in the 
class-room, and for private study as well 
as by readers and speakers generally 

By 
FRANK H. FENNO, A. M., F. S. Sc. 

Teacher, Lecturer, and Author of ' Fenno's Elocution," "Lectures 
on Elocution", etc., Compiler of "Fenno's Favorites 

Revised and Enlarged by 
MRS. FRANK H. FENNO, B. O. 



CHICAGO 

EMERSON W. FENNO, Publisheb 

1912 



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Copyright 1912 

By 

Mrs. Frank H. Fenno. 






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DEDICATED TO THE MEMORY 
OF 

""Emma 3fon?well TFeitno 

WHOSE 

PURE, BEAUTIFUL SPIRIT OF DEVOTION 

AND 

WONDERFUL MOTHER-LOVE 

HAS 

MADE THIS AND OTHER WORKS POSSIBLE 



THE GOODNESS OF HER QUIET LIFE SHINES 

OUT WITH EVER-INCREASING 

SPLENDOR 



PREFACE. 

An outline of study is presented in the triangular chart 
following. All culture whether of body, mind or voice, is a 
growth from the crude to the refined, and all drill must 
necessarily be in the order : 1. Mechanical ; 2. Natural ; 
3. Artistic. Thus, all culture is based upon the Mechan- 
ical, passes through the Natural, and is completed in the 
Artistic. 

This law applied to the rendering of thought gives : — 1. 
Mechanical ; 2. Intelligent ; 3. Emotional. The basis of 
speech is Conversation, its higher form is Reading, and its 
highest form is Oratory. So culture in speech is based on 
Conversation, continues through Reading, and culminates 
in Oratory. 

The character of all human expression is determined by 
the individuality of the speaker. The center of the indi- 
viduality is the mind. Psychologically considered, the 
mind has three sides — the Will, the Intellect, and the 
Feelings : — the Will corresponding with the Body, Physical 
or Vital nature ; the Intellect with the Mind, Intellectual 
or Mental nature ; the Feelings with the Soul, Moral or 
Emotive nature. So the Audible ( tones ) and Visible 
( gestures ) are either Vital, Mental or Emotive, according 
to which side of the mind prompts the action. Illustrations: 
Vital, the swagger and bluster of a bully ; Mental, the care- 
ful utterance and gestures of a thinker ; Emotive, the im- 
passioned manner of the exhort er. 

Our practical drill in Rendering trains successively the 
three sides of the mind. Beginning with the Will, we have 
our first group of exercises consisting of the three points 
Animation, Naturalness, and Directness of voice, correspond- 



vi PREFACE 

ing with Energy, Simplicity, and Precision of manner. 
The aim in this Mechanical period is Naturalness and 
Simplicity, which, when attained, carry the pupil into the 
second, the Natural Period. 

In the second period we work for the three points, Cora- 
pass, Agreeabieness, and Flexibility of voice, and Radia- 
tion, Grace, and Variety of gesture ; the aim being those 
artistic qualities; Agreeabieness and Grace. 

This aim being attained the student finds himself in the 
third, the x^.rtistic Period. Here we work for Propriety, 
Freedom, and Magnificence of gesture, to cultivate Imagi. 
nation secure Responsiveness of voice and body to mind, 
and add Brilliancy — that final polish and artist's touch — 
since " God himself signifies that his creation is complete 
by throwing over it the garb of beauty. " 



TO THE STUDENT. 

The student should approach this complex and many 
sided study — this fine art — as an architect who sets before 
himself the task of constructing some great work even a 
grand cathedral which shall endure through ages to bless 
and to ennoble the souls of men because of its beauty and 
its usefulness. The architect first must have within him- 
self his well-defined ideal, for his work cannot excel that, 
though as he works his ideal is constantly changing and 
ever beholding more complicated and loftier visions to be 
wrought out. He begins to gather about himself material 
for the work, much that is crude and commonplace and 
some that is rare and precious. He must chisel, refine and 
polish, toiling on long and faithfully, ever with positive hope, 
that he may bring out the ideals hidden in his soul. Out 
of a dream he constructs a real temple with walls and root 
and buttresses, pinnacles, high -pointed arches of windows 



PREFACE vii 

deeply recessed entrance way ; within, the vaulted arches, 
the delicately fluted columns, the niches, carved panels, 
rose windows and delicate tracery work ; a place worthy 
to echo back the grandest music of the masters, and the no- 
blest and best thoughts and feelings of the world. 

Or let the student begin his task as an organ builder. He 
gathers about him his material, shapes each part into suit- 
able form, giving careful attention to measurements to suit 
the laws of sound. He is careful that all parts of hisinstru 
ment are so nicely adjusted, with parts, each responsive to 
the other, that when finished, with each part in place, all 
parts are forgotten when it discourses wonderful harmony 
as it responds to the skillful touch. 

In this commercial age, to many this will seem visionary 
and impracticable ; but " he that hath ears to hear, let 
him hear. " Let him first have noble ideals for noble pur- 
poses then " undertake great things and expect great 
things. " The student of expression, like the student of 
music, painting, sculpture, or any other art, should take the 
needed time for development. 

The student should go about his work with energy, with 
a willingness to work hard. Do not think because you are 
attracted to the study that you possess " talent. " The 
pianist or the artist along any other line will tell you that 
talent is largely the result of hard work. Genius is the re- 
sult of an endurance and persistence in hard work. These 
mystic keys hold the treasure. In this study as in no other 
science or art " a little learning is a dangerous thing. " 

Let us consider briefly the material needed by the student 
who would be the organ builder and the master musician, 
the artist and the work of art. ( Material in large charts. ) 

Think of self to be used in this work not only as one 
but as three ; three beings combined in one,— the Physical 
being, the Mental being, the Spiritual being. In the early 



viii PREFACE 

part of tbe study, separate the three and think of them as 
distinct and wide apart ; later in the study all may be con- 
sidered as a unit, acting together. 

The Vital or Physical side of life needs no definition as 
it is visible and easiest to know and think about. 

The Mental, with its wonderful faculties of Reason and 
Memory and Imagination, lives within the body. We can 
think of the seat of all this power as located in the brain. 
We often judge of the mental faculties themselves by the 
shape of the head. We think of the brain and its faculties 
as something. 

The Spiritual life dwelling within the Physical body 
should be thought of as something. It cannot be weighed, 
measured, and examined as is the brain with its gray matter. 
No dissecting knife has ever yet found a trace of its presence. 
It cannot be seen with the X ray. It ever eludes the keen- 
est search. Though it is so mystic and fleeting, its influence 
is more real to us than anything else we know about. How- 
ever mysterious all this may be and whatever may be our 
belief, let us, to gain the most helpful attitude toward the 
study in hand — which must be largely of things intangible 
and subjective — let us learn to think of this spiritual 
or emotive nature as something. Think of it as a perfect 
correspondence to the physical body, dwelling within it and 
fitted to it as though the body were its garment. Think too 
of this spiritual body as being so delicate and impression- 
able that the slightest wish of a friend will cause it to vi- 
brate, as will all feelings, hopes, fears, aspirations. Because 
of the fact it is so easily moved it is called the Emotive na- 
ture. This Emotive or Spiritual has its faculties no less 
than the brain. 

Physical body has its complicated Vital Organs, Nerves, 
Muscles, Blood and Breath. 

Mental has its Perception, Memory, Imagination, Reason, 



PREFACE ix 

Generalization. 

Emotive has its Affectional, Passional, Mystical, Spiritual, 
Ethical. In this is included a wide range of feelings of 
which faith, hope, love and their opposites are greatest. 
Sentiments and ignoble passions belong to the Emotive. 

All three sides are capable of wonderful culture and de- 
velopment. 

The principles and studies in " The Art of Rendering" 
in connection with " The Science of Speech, " which is 
an indispensable part of the study — though for convenience 
is published in a separate volume — give a true Mental 
Method which allows the child and the sage to study side 
by side, each working from his own standpoint, the progress 
of both being equally rapid because of a similar process 
going on in each — that of a natural, psychological growth. 

Says Beecher. — " To make men patriots, to make men 
Christians, to make men the sons of God, let all the doors 
of heaven be opened, and let God drop down charmed gifts : 
winged imaginations, all-perceiving reason, andall-adjudg. 
ing reason. Whatever there is that can make men wiser 
and better, let it descend upon the head of him who has 
consecrated himself to the work of mankind, and who has 
made himself an orator for man's sake and for God's sake. " 

Mrs. Frank H. Fenno. 
Chicago, III., March 19th, 1912. 



CONTENTS 

Page 

Formula of Analysis of any Art 1 

The Fine Arts 2 

The Beautiful 3 

The True . 4 

The Good 5 

The Artist 5 

Art and Artists 6 

Finding the Unity 8 

Physical Culture 13 

Physical Exercises 24 

The Breath of Life 37 

Breath Organs 38 

Expressions of the Breath 42 

Breathing Exercises 43 

The Voice 48 

First Steps in Voice Culture 49 

Organs of Voice 50 

Vibratory Agents of the Voice 53 

Voice Exercises 54 

Order of Daily Voice Drill 58 

Gesture 62 

Law of Motion 65 

Law of Velocity 67 

Law of Direction 68 

Law of Reaction 69 

Law of Form 70 

Law of Opposition 71 

Law of Sequence 71 

Number of Gestures 72 

Law of Force 72 

Rhythm 72 

Direction of Gesture 73 

Finesse of Gesture 74 

xi 



xii CONTENTS 

Page 

Bearings, Attitudes, Inflections 75 

Dual Form of the Study of Expression ... 76 

Mental Training 78 

Training of the Five Senses 78 

Training of the Emotive 80 



SIXTEEN STEPS IN RENDERING 

Animation 83 

The Cheerful Locksmith . . Charles Dickens 84 

Nebuchadnezzar's Dream . . Daniel II 85 
A Rill from the Town-Pump .... 

. Nathaniel Hawthorne 90 

Law ...... Stevens 91 

Appledore . . . James Russell Lowell 94 

Gratiano .... Shakespeare 96 

Conversational Style 97 

The Bachelor's Dream . . Thomas Hood 101 
Aunt Nancy's Account of a Fashionable Parlor 



Recital . . . Mary M. Boynton 


104 


Tildy Said .... Booth Lowrey 


108 


Man Was Saying . . . Victor Hugo 


110 


The Katydid in Opera . Robert J. Burdette 


111 


The Gardener . Bishop James A. Quayle 


113 


Narrative Style 


117 


Riding on a Crocodile . Charles Waterton 


118 


Adventures with a Python Charles Waterton 


119 


A " Sassy" Corpse . . Rev. H. 0. Rowlands 


120 


Wee Davie . . . Norman Macleod 


122 


Elizabeth . . . Henry W. Longfellow 


126 


Descriptive Style 


130 


Washington .... . Everett 


133 


John Burns of Gettysburg . Brete Harte 


134 


John Hancock . . Theodore Parker 


134 


Evangeline . . Henry W. Longfellow 


135 


Mary ..... Lew. Wallace 


136 



CONTENTS 



XIII 



Priscilla 

Romola 

Seneca Lake . 

The Snow Angel 

Kaatskill on the Hudson 

El Capitan 

Morning 

Night . 

The Oak 

An Idyl 

The Primrose of the Rock 

The Violet ^ . 

The Dandelion 

Flowers 

The Butterfly 

Lichens and Mosses 

Lake Otsego . 

The Lovely Shell . 

On the St. Lawrence River 

Night . 

A Cottage 

The Fire-fly . 

A Water-fowl 

The Hawk . 

The Green Linnet . 

The Ship _ . 

The Spinning Wheel 

Rainbow Falls, Watkins Glen 



Henry W. Longfellow 

George Eliot 

James G. Percival 

Wallace Bruce 

Washington Irving 

Bayard Taylor 

Edward Everett 

0. M. Mitchell 

Southey 

. C.G. Buck 

Wordsworth 

Scott 

Lowell 

Wordsworth 

Wordsworth 

John Ruskin 

Cooper 

. Tennyson 

Moore 

Wordsworth 

Moore 

Moore 

Wordsworth 

Wordsworth 

Wordsworth 

Southey 

Wordsworth 



Forming Pictures 



King Robert of Sicily 
Words Like Arrows 
A Day in the Mountains 
Lake Grasmere 



Henry W. Longfellow 

The Sphere 

Rev. David W. Ferry 

Wordsworth 



Vital, Animated Pictures and Scenes 

The Shipwreck . . . Charles Dickens 

Eruption of Mount Vesuvius Sir Bulwer Lytton 
The Burning of Moscow . . J. T. Headley 

Vision of the Heavenly Jerusalem . St. John 



Page 

137 
138 
140 
141 
142 
143 
144 
145 
145 
146 
147 
147 
148 
148 
149 
149 
151 
151 
152 
153 
154 
154 
155 
155 
156 
157 
158 
159 

160 

165 
171 
177 

180 

181 

181 

185 

187 
188 



xiv CONTENTS 

Page 

Ideal Pictures 190 

The Sea Fairies . . . . Tennyson 190 

Paradise and the Peri . . Thomas Moore 192 

To a Skylark .... Shelley 195 

Slides of the Voice 200 

Hamlet's Instruction to the Players . 

Shakespeare 201 

Portia's Plea for Mercy . . Shakespeare 202 

Polonius' Advice to Laertes . Shakespeare 203 

Thanatopsis . . William Cullen Bryant 204 

Vital Slide 207 

Wolsey to Cromwell . . Shakespeare 207 

Prince Arthur . . . Shakespeare 208 
Rip Van Winkle in the Mountains . 

. Joseph Jefferson 213 

Slide in Volume 216 

Landing of Columbus . . . Rogers 217 

The American Flag . Joseph Rodman Drake 218 

Battle Hymn of the Republic Julia Ward Howe 220 

Erin's Flag .... Father Ryan 221 

A Processional Hymn . . Psalm XXIV 223 

Pause 224 

A Child's Dream of a Star . Charles Dickens 226 

Ode to the Passions . . William Collins 230 

A Dagger of the Mind . . Shakespeare 233 

Relation of Values 234 

Look Aloft .... J. Lawrence 239 

Self-Dependence . . . Matthew Arnold 240 

Pure Cold Water . . . John B. Gough 241 

Civic Rights for the Jews . . Macaulay 242 

Volume of Voice 245 

The Ocean .... Lord Byron 249 

Brutus in the Orchard . . Shakespeare 250 



CONTENTS 


XV 




Page 


Voices of the Sea . Rev. John A. Earl, D. D. 


252 


Christian Education Rev. H. 0. Rowlands, D. D. 


254 


God ..... . Derzhavin 


255 


Patmos . . . Dr. John L. Campbell 


258 


Peace on Earth . Rev. Sam'l J. Skevington 


260 


Lyric 


264 


Nightfall . . . .W.W. Ellsworth 


266 


Longing for Home . . . Jean Ingelow 


267 


Song of the Mystic . . Father Ryan 


269 


The Chambered Nautilus . 0. W. Holmes 


272 


A Cry from the Wilderness . Psalms LXIII 


273 


The Lost Chord . . Adelaide A. Procter 


274 


Morte D'Arthur 


. Tennyson 


275 


The Day is Done . 


Henry W. Longfellow 


276 


Allah . 


Henry W. Longfellow 


277 


Song of Love and Death 


. Tennyson 


278 


Crossing the Bar 


. Tennyson 


278 


Abide with Me 


Lyte 


279 


Lead Kindly Light . 


Cardinal Newman 


279 


Still, Still with Thee 


. Harriet Beecher Stowe 


280 


Soliloquy 


281 


Hamlet's Soliloquy . . Shakespeare 


281 


King of Denmark. Remorse . Shakespeare 


282 


What My Lover Said . . Homer Greene 


284 


Alone .... Robert J. Burdette 


285 


Monologue 


287 


Queen Vashti's Lament . . John Reade 


287 


A Tale ..... Robert Browning 


289 


The Wages of Sin . . . Booth Lowrey 


293 


Subjective Poems 




It is Not Too Late . . Booth Lowrey 


298 


You Came 


. Elizabeth Purser 


299 


Soul Sympathy 


Harriet Mabry 


299 


Sunlight and Shadow 


Bertrand H. Riggs 


300 


Youth Memories . 


Alba Honywell 


301 



GENERAL ANALYSIS 1 

FORMULA OP ANALYSIS FOR ANY ART. 

I. Place in the arts. 

1. Architecture. 

2. Sculpture. 

3. Literature. 

4. Painting. 

5. Oratory. 

6. Music. 

II. Purpose. 

1. The author himself. 

2. Character of the work. 

3. a. To entertain. 

b. To instruct. 

c. To ennoble. 

III. Treatment. 

1. Unity.— The whole. 

2. Analysis. — The parts" 

3. Symmetry. — Relation of part to whole. 

4. Harmony. — Relation of part to part. 

IV. Essentials. 

1. Strong in conception. 

2. Interesting in subject. 

3. True in details. 

4. Good in influence. 

V. Periods. 

1. Colossal. 

2. Effective. 

3. Realistic. 

4. Suggestive. 

VI. Ultimate Aim. Beauty, Goodness, Truth. 



2 THE ART OF RENDERING 

THE FINE ARTS. 

As Expression is a fine art, let us consider a few simple 
definitions of the word Art. Much of a complex and be- 
wildering character has been written by its devotees, but 
with such technical terms as leave the uninitiated to wonder 
and admire. Delsarte has so simplified matters for us as 
to enable the earnest student of expression to understand 
and appreciate some of its profound secrets. Even the 
great art students of our times acknowledge that along 
certain lines the Delsarte Philosophy has thrown more 
light on all the arts than in such clearness and simplicity 
was never known before. We may profit by some of 
his definitions. 

" Art is that which aims to touch the heart by the 
Good the Beautiful and the True. 

Beauty purifies the sense. 
Truth illumines the mind. 
Virtue ( goodness ) sanctifies the soul. 

Art should interest by the True to ilJumire the intelli- 
gence, move by the Beautiful to regenerate the life, per- 
suade by the Good to perfect the heart. 

Art is not an imitation of nature. Art is better than 
nature, it is nature illuminated. " 

Says Charles Dudley Warner : " Art is not nature, it is 
a suggestion, impregnated with the artist's personality. " 

Says Walter Crane : " Art is the most subtle and ex- 
pressive of language, taking all manner of varied forms in 
all sorts of materials under the paramount impulse of the 
selective search for beauty. 

" Art remains the one way possible of teaching truth, " 

Browning. 
Cl Art is the telescope of a supernatural world. " 
" The powers of art are the wings of the soul. " 



THE BEAUTIFUL 3 

"The artist — those whose calling is to point to the 
beautiful, the elevated, the refined, and by so doing to 
heighten the existence of mankind. " Alama Tadema. 

" Art is the manifestation of emotion, obtaining external 
interpretation, now by expressive arrangement of line, form 
or color, now by a series of gestures, sounds or words, gov- 
erned by particular rhythmical cadence. " Veron. 

"Poetry, to speak generally, is the faculty of feeling in- 
ternally the essence of life, and art is the faculty of express- 
ing the same thing in external form. Artists, literateurs, 
painters, sculptors, musicians, really invent only the form 
to be taken by the poetic sentiment breathed into them by 
nature or by life. " Thore. 

"Art a search after the best. " 

" Artists aim : to represent the invisible in the visible , 
the Infinite in the finite, eternal truth in its priority by 
rendering it manifest in a sensible form and shape. " 



THE BEAUTIFUL. 

" Beautiful purifies the emotions. " 
" Beauty — and what is beauty? A blind man's 
question. " Aristotle. 

c< Beauty — the flower of virtue. " Zeno. 
" Beauty, the result of the good and useful. " Socrates. 
* My eyes turn toward the beautiful, Autolicus, as to a 
torch burning at midnight. " Socrates. 

Beauty is not prettiness, but the outward sign of Good. 
" He alone is beautiful whose mental corresponds with 
his physical perfections. " Plato. 

" Beauty reigns supreme in art, nature, mankind and 
love. " 



4 THE ART OF RENDERING 

" Beauty is the splendor of truth- • 
Says Delsarte : " Beauty is the reason that presides at 
the creation of things; it is the invisible power that draws 
us and subjugates us in them. 

The beautiful comprises three characters, which we dis- 
tinguish under the following titles : ideal, moral, plastic 
beauty. " 



THE TRUE. 



" The True illumines the thought. Truth is the gravita- 
tion principle of the universe by which it is supported, and 
in which it coheres. " William M. Evarts. 

" Truth is the planet that seeks the sun, yet grasps the 
soil. " Robert Barclay Fox. 

" Truth is everlasting, but our ideas of it are not. v 

Beecher. 

" To restore the commonplace truth to its first uncommon 
lustre, you need only to translate it into action. " Coleridge. 

u The greatest homage we can pay to truth is to use it. " 

Emerson. 

" There is nothing so strong or safe in any emergency of 
life, as the simple truth. " Charles Dickens. 

u Truth is the apostle before whom every coward Felix 
trembles. " Wendell Phillips. 

"There are some faults slight in the sight of lore, some 
errors slight in the estimate of wisdom ; but Truth forgives 
no insult and endures no stain. " Ruskin. 

u He who makes truth disagreeable, commits high trea- 
son against virtue. " Woodruff. 

" What is eloquence but truth in earnest. " T.L.Cuyler # 

" Truth is the concept of the Spirit in regard to the real- 
ity of things, and the laws which govern them. " Rayner. 



THE GOOD 5 

" Moral beauty is the brilliancy of the good. " 
Says Delsarte: " The good is that which sanctifies the 
soul. " 

The good seems to be that which can give to the greatest 
number of beings existing in the universe the greatest sum 
of happiness and perfection. We never tire of the good; 
it is a continual feast because we are lifted up and ennobl- 
ed by it, while that form of art that simply entertains soon 
becomes stale and unprofitable. The good is the power 
that lifts the race into an ever widening and higher sphere. 
The artist who has the power to awaken within us the 
Divine aspiration for Good becomes our hero. " He is the 
living light-fountain, which it is good and pleasant to be 
near. The light which enlightens : which has enlightened 
the darkness of the world ; and this not as kindled by a 
lamp only, but rather as a natural luminary shining by the 
gift of heaven ; a flowing life fountain, as I say, of original 
insight, of manhood and heroic nobleness; in whose radi- 
ance all souls feel that it is well with them. " 



THE ARTIST. 



Beauty chased he everywhere, 

In flame, in storm, in clouds of air, 
He smote the lake to feast his eye 

With the beryl beam of the broken wave ; 
He flung in pebbles, well to hear 

The moment's music which they gave. 
Oft pealed for him a lofty tone, 

From nodding pole and belting zone. 
He heard a voice none else could hear 

From centered and from errant sphere. 
The quaking earth did quake in rhyme, 
Seas ebbed and flowed in epic chime. Emerson* 



6 THE ART OF RENDERING 

Art and the Artist may here receive but a passing glance 
for these subjects are profound as is Philosophy and Relig- 
ion. " The artist, no less than the preacher, is a proclaim- 
er of the glory of God ; no less than the philosopher, an 
expounder of the Absolute Idea. " The aim here is only 
to drop a few seed thoughts, hoping they may fall into pro- 
ductive soil and set each student thinking for himself, that 
he may learn to use in aa effective and artistic manner the 
material lying in abundance at hand ready for use. 1 , 

Cicero tells us that " all arts that pei tain to culture have 
a certain common bond. " Because of this the student may 
secure material aid by carefully studying principles in all 
the arts, especially paintings and artistic pictures. 

The Reader or Public Speaker should be an artist along 
several lines. He has far more to do than the artist with 
the brush if his impressions abide, for the expression the 
Reader gives is instantaneous, almost like writing in the 
water, or carving in the air, therefore, what he gives must 
be enforced with the ability to project mental pictures into 
the minds of his listeners. This cannot be done with mere 
words. He must have before he can give and can give 
only such as he has. 

The Reader has more to do than he who acts a part in 
a play, for the reader must paint the scenery, portray the 
characters and suggest all action. It would be impossible 
to do all this without a knowledge of the principles of art* 

In the Drama the same principles are used as the Paint- 
er uses in the arrangement of his characters on the canvas. 
He uses superior and inferior — colors contrasts, — all is 
arranged with the most careful, studied effects that the cen- 
tral thought be placed in the best possible light. In a 
Drama presented by a master we have living pictures with 
such perfect harmony of action and color and setting, should 
a painting be produced of a scene at any point, it would 



THE ARTIST 7 

present all the essentials of a high class work of art. 
The reader must do that which will awaken all this, and 
more, if his impressions are lasting. 

Because of a lack of carefully prepared and definite^ 
artistic, mental background, we are obliged to listen to much 
that is utterly forgotten and lost, almost before the speaker 
has finished. If sermons, lectures and other forms of pub- 
lic speaking were something beside words, words, words ; if 
the words had some force back of them to send them home 
and make them stay, the Stage and Dramatic Reader's 
platform could not be more fascinating than the Pulpit. 

The speakers of the pulpit possess, as a class, the greatest 
intellectual and emotive wealth and have, by far, the broad- 
est and most fertile subjects from which to draw material. 

It does pay to see to it that what we give is so strong and 
alive with every possible advantage back of it that it may 
be received and accomplish that whereunto it was sent. 
This is the end that crowns all. There can be no giving 
without receiving. Attemptirg to give that which fails to 
be received is a monstrous waste of energy, even though 
it is practiced so largely and by wise and learned men. 

It pays to study expression with a pencil, carefully out- 
lining all details ; then to throw mentally a bold sketch on 
a great canvas and lay upon it the suitable colors to make it 
a living, breathing reality^ pulsating with a life so genuine 
that the listener may comprehend and participate in it; that 
he may gain an actual experience which will not easily 
be blurred and lost. 

It pays to so identify yourself with the scene and situa- 
tion as to be a part of it, presenting, beside the scene, the 
spirit and feeling it awakens, manifesting it earnestly, hearts 
ily and with fervor. It does not pay to undertake anything 
that is not worth doing well, or anything you cannot 
enter into with all your heart and art. 



8 THE ART OF RENDERING 

Too much can hardly be said of the importance of going 
thoroughly over the matter to be presented, making a clear 
analysis of all scenery, characters and feeling hidden under 
the lines. When this is once properly done, we have a key 
to gesture, voice, inflection and the elements of modulation. 
In this analysis may be found a way to avoid a common 
fault — unnatural expression. Analysis is often the most 
difficult part of the study. While some selections require 
careful study to bring out the subtle meaning, others are 
simple and easily disposed of. 

FINDING THE UNITY. 

Following are some homely illustrations so simplified as 
to assist the youngest to gain a clear and certain under- 
standing of what we mean by Unity, for this is the starting 
point. 

By Unity of a study we mean the Central Idea. It may 
be some object, a person, an emotion, a passion or some sub- 
jective feeling. A whole poem may have been written to 
bring out one sentence, or one idea. 

As a selection of the Unity is the center of the study, and 
all harmony of arrangement of subordinate ideas depends 
upon it, let us use the simplest illustration possible to ex- 
plain our meaning of this first step of analysis. 

Here is a large pink rose we wish to place in a bouquet 
where it will be brought out to the best advantage. This 
rose is our unity. We easily decide that it should occupy 
the central position in our bouquet. Now follows that which 
is moie difficult, for we have much liberty in our selection 
of something to place with this rose to bring it out best. 
Surely it will never do to place it surrounded by other roseSj 
or even with lilies, for such rival beauties will obscure the 
favorite. We must select something inferior to be the 



FINDING THE UNITY 9 

background. We find too beside this contrast of superior 
with inferior, as to position, contrasts in color must next be 
thought about. The complimentary color of our pink rose 
is its own natural green leaves. There could be no mistake 
in using this background. Should we use flowers instead of 
leaves some inferior in size, white or cream may be used. 
A few pink rose buds may also be used as they will not 
assert themselves but lend themselves to the unity, the rose. 

By position, by contrasting superior with inferior, by con- 
trast in color we have brought out our rose. The artist 
may find much more than this to do, but let this simple 
analysis open the way for more complex work in the read- 
ings. 

Let us next study a Selection with a single Character 
instead of a flower for our unity, " The Cheeiful Lock- 
smith " by Charles Dickens affords a simple, yet a useful 
study. Find the above study in " Studies in Rendering, *> 
under " Animation. " In thi3 study we readily select 
the cheerful Locksmith himself as the central subject for 
our attention. The study divides into two scenes, ( though 
it might be given in one, depending on the view point. ) 
Scene I. is on the street, with workshop in sight. Scene II, 
is inside the workshop. We ourselves must be only an on- 
looker in both scenes. In the street we listen to the Lock- 
smith ; in the shop we see him. Picture the whole scene 
vividly, the locksmith and the interior of the shop. Bring 
out all the details, as the window, " the locks that hung 
around, " the cat ; see however that nothing eclipses the 
Locksmith himself. Take advantage of " a gleam of sun 
shining through the unsashed window and checkering the 
dark workshop with a broad patch of light, fell full upon 
him as though attracted by his sunny heart. " and make 
use of this high light and get the full artistic value. 

Contrast the Locksmith's music with all the discordant 



10 THE ART OF RENDERING 

sounds, as the carts rumbling by, scolding, prison-door and 
jolting wagon, etc. Use all negative ideas as shade — all 
cheerful, musical ideas as light, bringing out the contrast, 
with light more pronounced than darkness This may be 
done by speaking of the " tink, tink, tink, " the music, and 
light as that of which we approve, while of the noise, the 
shade, the dark and disagreeable we disapprove. The light 
may be given on a touch of high pitch, the shade a slight 
degree of low pitch, a departure from the medium. 

Make a careful study of the whole selection as if to illus- 
trate it. See more than is mentioned in the selection, all 
details of the workshop, tools around, forge, anvil, the cat, 
most important of all, the man himself, his dress, and his 
facial expression. Do not be sparing of effort expended 
on this side of the study, all this gives to your expression 
a mental value of life and real interest. All this concen- 
tration of the mind on the scene and a participation in the 
spirit of: it will give it such a value and an interest to the 
reader himself as will readily be imparted to the listener. 

Paintings furnish excellent suggestions and helps for the 
reader or speaker. The student is asked to look over some 
helpful suggestions and to observe how the artist has made 
many things contribute to the central idea in one of the 
greatest of the world's paintings, " Christ Before Pilate. " 

This painting is great, not alone from the fact that it is 
supposed to have cost $120,000.00, but because it leaves a 
never-to-be-forgotten impression on the mind of him who 
stands before it with a responsive heart and mind. This 
painting is costly and famous because of the thought and 
feeling the artist has put into it. 

Let the student observe how the artist has brought out 
the chief and central theme, Christ Before Pilate. As to 
importance Christ stards first, Pilate second. Christ and 
Pilate are superior, all the other characters, inferior, lend- 



PRESERVING THE UNITY 11 

ing themselves to the unity. Great preeminence is given 
to the chief figure as it stands under the magnificent arch a 
little to the right of the center, with many long lines to add 
prominence. The second character, Pilate, has an exalted 
seat, the center of an inferior arch. Observe how the art- 
ist has made obscure the heads forming a background for 
the central head. Note the force of this. We can readily 
see in the painting how the artistic value would have been 
sacrificed had this background of inferior heads been made 
as large and clear cut as the central one. Other contrasts 
are marked. The robes of the central characters alone 
are white, in contrast with all the other robes. A great 
study is in the expression of the faces of the characters. 
The noble, kingly expression of the central character is 
sharply contrasted with much that is ignoble, — insolence, 
pride, hatred, scorn and mockrey. The hesitation and 
perplexity on the face of Pilate is contrasted with the con- 
fidence and assurance of the accusers. Another contrast is 
between the Roman soldier with his spear and the man with 
fettered wrists. We have noted a few simple suggestions 
for the student of expression hoping they may be useful in 
the analysis of the readings. 

In Nebuchadnezzar's Dream, Daniel II , we find some 
points of similarity in the analysis to the painting we have 
above considered. We have two important characters, a 
few prominent characters, a crowd of people. The central 
theme however is neither the King nor Daniel, but the 
Dream. 

We find the study divides into one important scene 
and several little scenes. Scene I. the King's bed chamber. 
The principal scene is in the throne room, where three acts 
take place : the astrologers, before the King, sending out 
a decree to destroy the wise men ; Daniel before the King; 
Daniel's second appearance before the King and the in- 



12 THE ART OF RENDERING 

terpretation of the dream . Picture the whole scene vividly, 
The King may be seated a little at the right of the center, 
all ideas of the study are grouped about him. Daniel may 
stand on the left of the center, where he gives his speech 
as an oration. In telling the dream, near climax is reached 
on — "a stone was cut out without hands, .... and the 
stone that smote the image became a great mountain, and 
filled the whole earth. " The climax of the whole study 
comes near the last of the interpretation — " In the days of 
these Kings shall the God of heaven set up a kingdom which 
shall never be destroyed : . . . and it shall stand forever." 
The interpretation may be given as an explanation, with 
mental inflections, rising to a climax of fervor on the part 
about the kingdom, reaching highest point on — " it shall 
stand forever. n 

Bring out the side scenes, as the scene between Daniel 
and Arioch, another at Daniel's house when he tells his 
companions, then the night vision and Daniel's prayer and 
thanksgiving, a second scene between Daniel and Arioch, 
promotion of Daniel and companions at the close. 

Work out a contrast between Daniel and the King, — 
Daniel, always noble, while the King varies from perplex- 
ity in verse 3, angry threat in part of verse 5, angry accusa- 
tion 5 and 9, furious command verse 12, awe and submis- 
sion verse 47. 

Contrast Daniel with magicians who boast then argue; 
Daniel humble, for he says : " this secret is not revealed 
to me for any wisdom I have more than any living, ■' 

Subjective studies, lyrics, psalms etc. are more difficult 
to analyze than the above numbers as the real heart of it 
lies hidden beneath the surface. It is often one mood, or 
one feeling. For example the Psalm XXIII is a song of 
trust. The love and trust is told over and over again in 
different ways, but never the occasion of sadness. 



PHYSICAL CULTURE 13 

In Psalm VIII, the unity is contemplation. The poet is 
contemplating all God's works. He compares nature with 
man and decides man is greater than the other creatures 
because he has dominion over them. The poet seems to be 
talking to himself. 

« Nightfall, " in the " Studies in Rendering, " has for 
the key thought " a melody of other days. " The nightfall 
meditations are all grouped about this thought. But there 
is little to indicate whether the memory is pleasant or sad 
so the student must add that important point. 

Subjective lyrics are in the " Studies in Rendering. " 

No study should be attempted without first making an 
analysis. The foregoing suggestions are far from complete, 
the aim being to set each pupil thinking for himself with 
a hope that individuality may be developed and natural 
expression result. 



PHYSICAL CULTURE. 

" Be ye therefore perfect * 

The upright man with his high Moral and Spiritual 
uprightness with elements of Truthfulness., Conscientious- 
ness, Courage, and Duty Fulfilled should be Erect, Manly, 
Commanding. 

We can do no better at this point than to quote from 
" The Place and Power of the Personality in Expression." 
by Dr. William R. Alger. Below the following principle 
he has given us two word pictures : — 

A pure and free personality is a transparent me- 
dium for divine realities to shine through : but one 
preoccupied with individual peculiarities intercepts the 
divine realities it should reveal, and fixes attention on 
itself 



14 THE ART OF RENDERING 

Suppose a person to advance in front of an audience 
with a club foot, a bent knee, a stiff hip, a crooked arm, 
a hunch back, a wry neck, a wabbling jaw, a lifeless lip, 
a sunken nose, a squint eye, a cadaverous skin and a 
wheezy voice. Suppose in addition, that in correspondence 
with this physical side of his being the spiritual side is 
made up of faculties narrow, mean, feeble and empty, des- 
titute of knowledge or training and infested with all sorts 
of odious antipathies, envies, spites, so that he is as igno- 
rant and bad as he is hideous. Suppose then that he should 
undertake to deliver an oration, or read a poem, or imper- 
sonate a dramatic character. The spectators, according to 
their several characters, would experience sensations of 
mirth, curiosity, amazement, pity, scorn, disgust, sorrow, 
distress or hatred. They could not experience emotions of 
approval, admiration, reverence or delight. They could 
not feel themselves pleased, enriched, edified, inspired. 
Why not ? The reason is clear. It is because the ignoble, 
repulsive marks stamped into the unfortunate performer 
are the language of weakness, discord, vice, sin and misery; 
expressions of wrong and degradation, which inflict suffer- 
ing and awaken instinctive abhorrence or pity. Beside 
they prove that he is so tied to himself, so confined to the 
revolting consciousness of his own wretched experience — 
such a symbolizer or reflecting mirror of the false, the bad, 
the ugly, — that he is utterly incapacitated to be a revela- 
tory medium of the godlike freedom and glory of any 
noble forms of truth, goodness and beauty. 

Every deformity or stricture of the body, every bias of 
the soul, enslaves the personality itself, and by this pre- 
occupation of the medium with the individual, blocks the 
reception and transmission of what is universal. 

But the business of the artist is to represent nature, jus- 



PHYSICAL CULTURE 15 

tice, law, use, humanity, virtue, liberty, God — not to ex- 
hibit himself and his infirmities. Just so far as private 
peculiarities, either physical or spiritual, are protruded by 
him, his personality, instead of reflecting, intercepts those 
divine attributes, which alone have any claim to be loved 
and worshipped, and which alone, therefore, should ever be 
exhibited by any one for assimilation by others. 

In contrast with this hideous and painful example, imag- 
ine now the opposite extreme. Conceive an orator whose 
physique is all symmetry and whose morale is all excel- 
lence. Let his form be perfect in proportions ; his feat- 
ures vivacious, and glowing with health ; his nerves sur- 
charged with energy; his voice disciplined to every variety 
of tone, emphasis and inflection ; his actions faultless in 
grace and dignity ; his reason and imagination of the high- 
est order; his knowledge covering all departments of history, 
science, art, and philosophy ; his character everything that 
is pure and exalted; a devout patriot, philanthropist, 
seeker of perfection, and worshipper of God. Suppose him 
on an important occasion to address an assembly capable 
of appieciating the facts of the case. The effect must be 
overwhelming. The exemplification of all that can charm, 
instruct, move, convince and command — all that is cloth- 
ed with divinest loveliness and authority, — would be such 
as to enthrall, and ravish his auditors, and carry them quite 
beyond themselves. Such would be the transcendent influ- 
ence lent to his personality by the divine qualities dwelling 
in it and shining through it. 

All the way between these two ideal extremes of repul- 
siveness and fascination, each example of personal expres- 
sion will be charged with power to kindle loathing or long- 
ing in the measure of its climacteric type. 

Dr. William R. Jllger. 
Publisher. E. S. Werner, 43 E. 19 th St. New York City. 



16 THE ART OF RENDERING 

Physical uprightness may be attained by a proper 
moral state, a proper mental state, a correct carriage of the 
body. Physical uprightness may be attained by Physical 
Culture. 

The Physical Culture of the early Greeks has, so far as 
education is concerned, made them " the despair of all 
succeeding ages. v u Greece has given us representative 
men in every department. We point to Greece for the 
greatest orator, for the greatest creative poet, for the great- 
est sculptor, for the first man in what we consider the high, 
est mental philosophy. Plato intellectually stands at the 
head of all the philosophers of the world. We must re- 
member, then, that that which made the Greeks what they 
were about four or five hundred years before Christ, was 
the natural evolution from physical culture. " 

The education of the ancient Greeks was more of a phys- 
ical than of a mental culture. Young children till about 
their sixth year were trained at home, after this they were 
sent to a private instructor, music and gymnastics being 
the foremost subjects. In this way was attained a sound 
mind in a sound body. 

Physical uprightness as related to the moral is illustrat- 
ed by dwarfs and deformed characters, as Shakespeare's 
Richard III, Dickens's Fagain. There are however some 
exceptions. The moral shows its relation to the physical 
by the beauty the spirit imparts to it, moulding even ugly 
features into beauty of expression. Real beauty emanates 
from the soul, chiseling the features into harmony and 
grace by the character that permeates the entire being 
and leaves its imprint on the countenance from the life 
back of it. 

Of the various Systems of Physical Culture may be men- 
tioned that of the ancient Greeks with severe muscular ex- 
ercise with games and races; the Romans, wrestling, gladia- 



PHYSICAL CULTURE 17 

torial sports. In mediaeval history were the tilts, tourna- 
ments, horsemanship and archery ; more modern, German 
Calisthenics and military training. To-day we have beside 
what is known as athletics, physical exercise found in our 
gymnasiums and what is known as German, Swedish, the 
French or Delsarte, Americanized Delsarte or ^Esthetic 
Physical Culture. The Emerson System may be called a 
modified Delsarte, with such changes as secure strength as 
well as grace. The results secured in the last named are 
sufficient proof of the merits of this system of exercises. 

UNIQUE FEATURES OF EMERSON SYSTEM. 

1. Repetition — ( Understood by the Greeks ). 

2. Movements authorized and required by the laws 
of our being. 

Objects Sought. 

1. Vital supply of the entire body. 

2. Proper position of the vital organs. 

3. Develop vital organs by exercising the muscles 
that surround them. 

4. Deep breathing. 

5. Preserve the due balance between the energy that 
supplies and the energy that wastes. 

6. Strengthen the centers while freeing the surfaces. 

i Chest center of body. 
Dominant Centers j Lips center of articulation. 

* Nerve centers. Spinal Column. 

i Conservation of energy at centers. 
Freeing of Articulations. 
Sympathetic action of parts. 

7. To develop due relationship between different 
groups of muscles. 



i8 THE ART OF RENDERING 

8. Develop opposing muscles or opposition of agents. 

a. Muscular sense and equilibrium. 

b. Relation of muscles to nerves. 

c. Education of nerve centers. 

d . Reflex action. 

e. Overworked muscles and nerves relieved. 

9. Preserve true balance between the life sustaining 
forces and the brain. 

a. Healthy attitudes of mind. 

b. Hygienic and iEsthetic value. 

c. Hygienic: strength, symmetry, health. 

d. iEsthetic : grace, harmony, beauty. 

Manner of Taking Exercises. 

a. Slowness. 

b. Evenness. 

c. Perfect time. 

d. Animation. 

Summary of Advantages. 

Health. 

Strength. 

Grace, 

Expression. 

Improved address, 
f In Social Life. 
Improved Manners *! In Business Life. 
1 In Public Life. 
The Ideal System: — For home use. No apparatus. 
Adapted to the strength of all. Grace not ugliness. 
Movements psychological, not acrobatic; not an over- 
development of large muscles at expense of delicate or heart. 



PHYSICAL CULTURE 19 

Aim to cultivate the blood-making power. 
Vital organs are diminished in size by carelessness. 
Vital organs often abnormally low from the cramped 
position of the chest pressing them down. 

Exercise assists the arteries, so the blood may flow 
without pressure. 

Muscles of vital organs never rest but alternate. 
Physical Culture strengthens them. 

We may compare the culture of the body to the thought- 
ful construction and adjustment of parts of a system with 
all connections ready to turn on the power, when the 
unobstructed message may carry with uneiring force. 

That nature gives body, mind and voice, and that the high- 
est results may be secured only through culture, none can 
deny. It is to be regretted that the training the average 
person receives in school is largely of the mind with a dis- 
regard to the other sides of the individual. 

The physical body is capable of culture as well as the 
mind. The body may be made strong, flexible, and so ex- 
pressive, one may almost say " his body thought. " The 
body may be so trained that instead of being as an instru- 
ment, all in one piece, like an axe, for example, it may be 
trained to act in parts, independent as well as dependent 
upon each other, complex yet each self-centered. 

The body may be trained to move without friction, in 
this way securing economy of energy. 

"When the body is properly adjusted to the soul, and an 
all-round harmony of being is secured, with the physical 
body at its best, it is found that the influence of reflex 
action is most elevating and refining on the inner life. By 
placing the body in noble attitudes we cultivate noble feel- 
ing. So as we physically assume a virtue, repeatedly we 
unconsciously grow along that line. James's Psychology 
under '• Consciousness and Movement " says : — 



20 THE ART OF RENDERING 

Using sweeping terms and ignoring exceptions, we might 
say that every possible feeling produces a movement, and 
that the movement is of the entire organism, and of each 

and all its parts We have now experimental proof 

that the heart beats, the arterial pressure, the respiration, 
the sweat glands, the pupil, some of the vital organs, as 
well as the voluntary muscles, may have their tone and de- 
gree of contraction altered by the most insignificant sensorial 
stimuli. In short, a process set up anywhere in the centers 
reverberates everywhere, and in some way or other affects 
the organism throughout, making its activities greater or 
less. The whole neural organism is, physiologically con- 
sidered, but a machine for converting stimuli into reactions. 

Under the chapter on " Emotion " Prof. James says: — 

The feeling in the coarser emotions, results from bodily 
expression. Our natural way of thinking about these coars- 
er emotions is that the mental perception of some fact ex- 
cites the mental affection called the emotion, and that this 
latter state of mind gives rise to bodily expression. My 
theory, on the contrary, is that the bodily changes follow 
directly the perception of the exciting fact, and that our 
feelings of the same changes as they occur is the emotion^ 

Common sense says, we lose our fortune, are sorry and 
weep ; meet a bear, are frightened and we run ; we are 
insulted by a rival, are angry and strike. 
The hypothesis here to be defended says, that this order 
of sequence is incorrect, that one mental state is not imme- 
diately induced by the other, that the bodily manifestations 
must first be interposed between, and that the more tational 
statement is that we feel sorry because we cry, angry be- 
cause we strike, afraid because we tremble, and not that 
we cry, strike or tremble because we are sorry, angry or 
fearful as the case may be. Without the bodily states fol- 
lowing on the perception, the latter would be purely cog- 



PHYSICAL CULTURE 21 

nitive in form, pale, colorless, destitute of emotional warmth. 

Particular perceptions certainly do produce wide-spread 
bodily effects by a sort of immediate physical influence, 
antecedent to the arousal of an emotional idea. 

From the foregoing from such a recognized authority we 
may gather most important scientific facts : that there is a 
reflex relation between action and feeling as well as between 
feeling and action. Much may be gained by assuming a 
noble feeling though we possess it not. Continued repeti- 
tion of noble attitudes will cultivate noble feelings. The 
mental impression causes action of the body. The action 
of the body causes emotion in harmony with the expression . 
This is a fact of importance in character building with the 
physical culture as an aid and in training the body for 
gesture. The coarser feelings and passions may be tamed, 
cultivated, refined and mastered as the body acquires skill 
in noble, graceful movement. No thoughtful person who 
is interested in the betterment of the race can ignore facts 
of such value. 

We find an astonishing amount of ignorance and indif- 
ference along these lines, even among the learned who do 
not stop to think the matter through. Little distinction is 
made between Physical Culture and physical exercise while 
the difference may be as great as between the pugilist and 
the pianist; both exercise — but the pianist may send out 
his very soul into his finger tips, causing them to vibrate 
with emotion second only to the vocal cords of the human 
voice. Such skill comes not by nature or by exercise alone, 
but by careful, thoughtful culture. Other parts of the body 
beside the fingers may be so cultivated as to quiver and 
pulsate with the thought and feeling from the inner life. 
Even as the pianist is benefited by the expressions sent out 
of exalted emotions, so the other parts of the body may 
respond to noble thoughts and feeling and find satisfaction 



22 THE ART OF RENDERING 

through the reaction back to the source. 

Men and women will tell you they get all the physical 
culture needed in their daily work and so believe it to be, 
making no distinction between physical exercise and physi- 
cal culture, ignoring the fact that the way in which they 
are taking their exercise is cramping and deforming their 
bodies and souls too, day after day. Such thoughtlessness 
as is exhibited in looking after the bands and sockets and 
levers of the human body bestowed on any ordinary piece 
of machinery would soon work its ruin. Too much strain 
on any one part or on all parts causes friction and waste of 
energy and inability to perform its proper functions. All 
ready to repair the loss stands the grand army of physicians, 
it would seem outnumbering the grand army of the world. 

The Creator of us all is the author of order and harmony, 
in all nature. Man must be taught " be ye perfect. M In 
order to be so we must give some attention to the joints and 
pulleys and see to it that some of the wheels are not clog- 
ged or overworkedjinstead of tugging along just any way 
till there comes a general breakdown. It sometimes is true 
the flaw at first might have been covered with the point of 
a pin, some point in a nerve where the energy failed to pass. 
There is sometimes an unconscious stiffening of some part 
of the spine, causing a jar and discord. There may be, for 
some cause, a frown on the face or some anxiety within 
disturbing the breath and circulation. Numberless things 
might happen to interfere with the perfect, harmonious^ 
balanced, rhythmic action of the physical body. 

" In times of peace prepare for war. " No person should 
think himself too strong or too busy or too wise to give 
not only exercise but culture to the body. With proper 
attention to these matters one may not only add life to one's 
years but years to one's life. Surely here if anywhere is 
discovered the long sought " Fountain of Perpetual Youth." 




THE THREEFOLD NATURE 

The Threefold Nature manifests through chosen tracts as indicated 
by divisions and subdivisions. 
I. Physical II. Mental III. Emotive 



PHYSICAL CULTURE 23 

The following ph^ sical exercises are based on Psycholog- 
ical principles and the Delsarte Philosophy. 

Let us consider briefly Delsarte's threefold division of 
the body in harmony with the threefold nature as illustra- 
ted by the chart. We find the three forms of nature are 
manifested through the three tracts — from the waist line 
down the physical,— the head, mental, — the chest is a 
center of the emotive. As an illustration of an expression 
of the physical is the man who stands with his hands in his 
pockets and gesticulates with his thumb. An example of 
the mental, a teacher would be conscious of her head and 
mark nice mental points with the first and little fingers. 
An illustration of the emotive, the chest as the leading 
agent of expression — courage, the chest high and square 
to the front. Pity seems to come from the chest. We turn 
the chest away from what we dislike, " give the cold shoul- 
der, " and u get the back up. " 

The" following exercises aim to give a harmonious action 
of the parts of the body acting together ; for example, in a 
salutation the expression comes from all the emotive divi- 
sions and subdivisions, the chest, the top of the head and 
the palm of the hand. 

Says Henry Ward Beecher whose oratory is still ringing 
and will continue to ring down through the ages: — " One 
of the very first steps in Oratory is that which trains the 
body to be the welcome and glad servant of the soul — 
which it is not always ; for many and many a one who 
has acres of thought has little of bodily culture, and as 
little grace of manners; and many and many a one who 
has sweetening inside has cacophony when he speaks. 
Harsh, rude, hard, bruising, are his words. The first work 
therefore is to teach a man's body to serve his soul. " 

" Not stark and stiffened persons, but the new-born 
poetry of God — Apollo and the muses chanting still, " 



24 THE ART OF RENDERING 



PHYSICAL EXERCISES. 

Poise. Our first step will be to poise the body properly. 

As a reason governing what follows we take the chest as 
the center because it is the seat of manifestation of the 
highest life. The immortal soul, whose servant is the mind, 
stands first; not the physical body, for it is not immortal, 
it soon dies. The highest nature manifests its emotions 
through the chest, the great emotive center of the whole. 
So we should aim to train the chest as the center of the 
body; the center of strength; the center of expression. 

Let us now use a Rule to govern the poising of the body. 

In that the emotive nature is superior to the physical 
nature and on this account we say, should be carried with 
greatest prominence, we find a reason for Da Vinci's Law 
for Posing Statues,— A vertical line from the chest 
should fall through the ball of the foot. An other poise: 
stand with the toes about three inches from the wall the 
chest touching the wall should leave the abdomen free. 
This poise with the chest over the balls of the feet should 
be observed in walking and standing. With the chest in 
the lead instead of the abdomen, one not only presents a 
better appearance and feels nobler, but it is found in walk- 
ing gravity works for one instead of against, which is a point 
of economy of energy. In walking let the chest lead. It 
is quite impossible to put the weight on the ball of the 
foot first, but let the chest go first so walking is a series of 
falling down. Do not strike out and overdo on this way 
of carrying the body when the idea is new, as the carriage 
may at first be far from graceful; but practice the poising 
exercises. Think the idea of proper poise till it naturally 
takes possession of you, so it may be as natural to carry 
yourself with ease and grace as it was to do otherwise 
before. Do not " put on " any unnatural manner. 



PHYSICAL EXERCISES 25 

We need not only to give attention to the position of the 
chest with relation to the feet but to the positions of the 
feet themselves. 

Principle, — Weakness takes a strong attitude and 
strength a weak attitude. Weakness would stand on a 
broad base with the feet wide apart, while strength would 
take a narrow base, feet near together or weight on one foot. 

Weakness taking a strong attitude is illustrated in the 
child learning to walk, or in a drunken person, or the old 
and feeble who stand with the feet wide apart or braced. 

The narrow base is not only an expression of strength 
but grace as well. The narrow base makes most promi- 
nent the longest line of beauty in the body. An active 
chest bears us up as on wings. Let us rather than plod 
with the whole flat foot, touch the earth lightly with the 
ball of the foot. 

Poise. Exercise I 

With a sense of strength in the chest, with weight on 
both feet, poise the body forward while counting one meas- 
ure — then back to position — back — position, ( Let the 
ankles serve as hinges for the sway forward and backward 
as far as is possible either way without loosing poise. ) 
Now rise on tips of toes — down — rise again — hold — 
down to position. 

Eight foot. Repeat with weight on right foot same as 
both feet. 

Left foot. Repeat the same as right. 

In poising feel you are drawn in each movement by an 
influence leading or drawing out from the chest. 
Hips. Exercise II. 

With tips of fingers on shoulders, first count, sway onto 
right foot; second, push the hip out; third count, still hold 
push down; forth count, glide weight over onto the left foot 
and repeat same as right. Repeat right. Repeat left. 



26 ART OF RENDERING 

Waist. Exercise III. 

Exercise the muscles of the waist, as carefully directed 
in chapter on Breathing, before attempting this exercise. 
Practice carefully the panting exercise there described and 
see that the waist exercises here are taken with the same 
action as in the panting. Contracting and expanding is 
simply long pants. The training of the waist muscles is 
so important in correct breathing and voice culture, wrong 
practice will do more harm than good. The assistance of 
a competent teacher is almost indispensable. 

Place the hands lightly at sides of the waist, contract 
through two counts; expand through two counts; repeat 
expanding; repeat contracting. Position. 

Chest. Exercise IV. 
With tips of fingers lightly touching the chest, lower it 
slowly, at the same time pushing the chin out; that is to say, 
take a mean attitude, slowly through two counts ; now lift 
the chest high as possible, chin in; that is take a noble atti- 
tude. Repeat both down and up, giving two measures for 
each movement. Position. 

Bending. Exercise V. 
The Bending exercise at any time and apart from the 
other movements is most restful and may act in the place 
of the doctor for some ailments. The spine with its " silver 
cord " demands careful attention. The Physician tells us 
that the nerves supply life and motion to eve ry organ and 
muscle of the body. The nerves come down from the brain 
through the spinal column and pass inside through holes 
between the vertebrae. The openings for the nerves may 
be injured giving us " pinched nerves. " " Respectability" 
stiffens the spine; pride stiffens the neck; uncomfortable 
clothing imposes a burden with derangement of the vital 
organs. The spinal column has a responsible part to play 



PHYSICAL EXERCISES 27 

as the backbone of life. From the pressure upon it, it is 
shorter at night than in the morning. 

Now let us relax, with arms hanging lifeless at the sides 
begin to bend. Relax as if going to sleep. Feel as if the 
head is tied on with a string. Think to bend at the top- 
most joint, following along down, one vertebra at a time, 
continue to bend till the head hangs limp in front, through 
two measures. Still relaxed, head hanging, sway with one 
measure to each position following. Left — front — 
right — front — left — front — right — back — 
left — front— left — back — right — front — 
Position. 

Head. Exercise VI. 
With head easily erect, facing front, rest of the body 
dead still, turn face till it looks straight over the right 
shoulder ; up — ( Look directly overhead. ) twist back — 
down — front. Repeat the same as to the left side. 
Count one measure of four beats for each position. 

Inhaling. Exercise VII. 

All arm exercises are to be taken with the weight of the 
body on the right foot when the right arm is active, on the 
left foot when the left arm is active, on both feet when 
both arms are active. The student will be saved from con- 
fusion in working out the following by observing the above 
which is true of gesture. 

Suggestions for inhaling will be found in the chapter 
on Breathing. 

In practicing the Inhaling, take the breath in through 
the nostrils while raising the arm and exhale while lower- 
ing it. Reach the arm well out, making large circles with 
a vigorous backward reach. Right foot — right arm — 
( Inhale through two measures and exhale through two ) 
up — down — again. Repeat same left. Repeat both. 



28 THE ART OF RENDERING 

Beaching. Exercise VIII. 

In practicing this exercise and all following in the series 
the important principles " Opposition of Agents, " found 
in chapter on " Gesture, " and what is given at the close of 
this treatment of the Physical Exercises about Flexibility 
and Strength at the center and freedom at the extremities 
should be continually borne in mind as the foremost 
aim in view. This of course must come after the mechan- 
ical order of learning the movements. 

Prepare to learn the Beaching Exercise by imagining 
yourself inside a cage about 12 ft. high by 8 ft. wide. 
The reaches are in six directions. In each reach the foot is 
opposed to the hand : for illustration, when the right hand 
pushes toward the right side of the cage the left foot pushes 
toward the left side, and so in all the directions the hand 
and foot are opposed. This makes a sort of a diagonal 
stretch of the body equal to a vigorous yawn. 
The reaches are Lateral Right ; Lateral Left ; Backward 
Right; Backward Left; Forward Bight; Forward Left. 

Preceding each arm action the free limb is given a full 
swing around the one bearing the weight. Position of the 
foot or both feet is always taken first as in all the other 
movements and in gesture. 

Give particular attention to the progressive order of the 
energy of each movement. Begin with the body lifeless, 
sway the weight over on to the right foot, swing the left 
one count, gradually begin to raise the arm, with the wrist 
leading ; as the arm rises increase the tension till the whole 
energy is exerted ; push with the palm near the wrist, the 
opposite foot near the heel. Take two measures to reach 
the highest tension, hold one measure, relax slowly as the 
arm falls through two measures, limp at the side ready for 
the next reach. Alternate relaxation and tension. This is 
as much an exercise for the foot as for the hand; make the 



PHYSICAL EXERCISER 29 

stroke of foot and hand together. Stretch and grow. 
Stretching makes straight. Stretching makes flexible. 

Weight on right foot — swing left— right arm — 
ilp — reach — hold — rest — down — Same as to 
Lateral Left, Back Right, Back Left, Front Right, Front 
Left. 

In all but the lateral reaches the hand reaches toward 
the different upper corners of the cage and the foot toward 
the lower corners. 

Hands and Wrists. Exercise IX. 

The aim in this exercise should be for flexibility of wrist. 

A stiff wrist is as great a detriment to ease and grace of 
expression as a stiff neck, and far more common. We say 
the hand is a second face. In many cases it seems to be a 
tool only. How often people tell us, if not always in words, 
" I do not know what to do with my hands. " Really our 
hands should be no more in the way than our faces, and 
will not be when they have been made expressive. 

Let us first work out the stiffness out of the wrist. Let 
the wrist bend a bit, it is not the handle of a shovel which 
will be ruined if you let go. A bend of the wrist will give 
more grace. In all the arm movements let the wrist lead 
rather than the tips of the fingers. In lifting the arm feel 
the hand is being drawn through the water, the fingers trail- 
ing. Move the arms in all directions, up, down, out and 
in, fingers floating in the water. Train the palm to come 
well open, let it touch the imaginary water too Cultivate 
" openhandedness " rather than " tightfistedness. " The 
hand not only reveals but trained to express thought helps 
to cultivate correct thinking. Train the hand to manifest 
thought and feeling ; do not allow it to wear the face of an 
idiot, without any thought. When it is made responsive 
the public speaker will have something in it to give and 
will not need to hide it behind him, or put it in his pocket 



30 ART OF RENDERING 

or what is worse, use it in meaningless gesticulation ; this 
being a way of showing how empty it is. This series of ex- 
ercises for the flexibility of the wrist is especially helpful 
to the pianist. 

For further study of the hand see chapter on " Gesture, " 
and Laws of the Hands in " Science of Speech. n 

Take the Wrist exercise with active chest, free, limp 
arms, shake the forearm vigorously, up and down — 
out— ( Make large circles outward. ) in — ( Making 
large circles inward, rotating the wrist in both outward and 
inward movements. ) — up and down — Rest. 

Arms. Exercise X. 

The arm moves in opposition to the head. When the 
arm is raised the head is lowered, when the arm is lowered 
the head is raised, when the arm sweeps out to the right 
the face turns as far to the left, etc. This is as much an 
exercise for the head as for the arm. 

Weight on right foot — right arm — up — down — 
push back — up again — down. 

$ame as to left foot and arm. 

Same as to both feet and both arms. 

Both arms overhead, fingers of both hands nearly touch- 
ing — out, back of hands leading to arm's length out — 
up overhead, palms leading up — out again, palms leading 
out — up, backs of hands leading up — front of chest, 
push — out, arms length at the sides — down to position. 

In all arm movements let the wrist lead. Observe in all 
the movements the points of action and the points of rest. 

Sweeps of arms. Exercise XI. 

Sweeps of arm out from the chest to the lateral are to 

be made with the hand in three different positions. First 

the back of hand leads out, palm leads back ; second, the 

palm of the hand leads out and the back of the hand 



PHYSICAL CULTURE 31 

leads back ; third, the side of the hand leads out, palm 
down and the side of the hand leads back. Observe the 
oppositions of hand and head. Work for an active chest, 
making climax of the stroke with chest and arm reach to- 
gether, relax on arm's return. 

Weight on the right foot — right arm — out — 
back — out — back — out — back — Position. 

Repeat the same as to left side. 

Arms, Salutation. Exercise XII. 

Weight on right foot reacting back on left as the body 
inclines slightly as head is lowered to meet the hand. 

Weight on right foot, raise the right arm, with the palm 
facing outward, as the hand rises the head is bowed to meet 
the palm as if to be placed on the head, two measures, 
next the hand falls to the side as the head is raised and the 
weight of the body returns to the right foot, two measures ; 
repeat the same with the same time; the third time the same 
save the hand rises only on a level with the chest; fourth, 
the same as the first only a sweep of arm overhead with the 
fingers nearly touching left side of head ; fifth same as the 
third; the sixth the same as the fourth ; the seventh the same 
as the third. Position. Repeat the same, left foot and arm. 

Repulsion. Attraction. ExerciseXIII. 

In this exercise, as well as in all the others be particular 
to let the chest lead. Feel conscious of the action in the 
chest first. In repulsion, let the chest slightly react before 
the hand attempts to push outward. Try to respond with 
the whole body. 

Weight on the right foot, bring hand to the ear as if 
listening, hold one count ; body reacts and hand pushes out- 
ward as if repulsing something offensive, hold one count; 
repeat the same; listen, the thirdtime something attractive, 
the arm is raised, hand held as expecting to receive, the 



32 THE ART OF RENDERING 

whole body, chest, face, ear, eye and hand is attracted. 
The measures for attraction are: right arm — up — 
hand — hold — back — repeat the same then rest. 

Weight on left foot repeat both " repulsion, " and ■ at- 
traction. " Position. 

Hands Finish. Exercise XIV. 
Weight on both feet ; wrists leading, backs of both hands 
uppermost, lifted above waist line, one count ; down, backs 
leading down. Repeat, palms leading up; over, palms 
leading down. Position. 

Bow. Exercise XV. 

In order to acquire this useful accomplishment so it is 
a genuine expression of our feelings without affectation 
let us find the reason back of the bow. Review the chart 
given concerning the threefold divisions of the body. 
The bow should be an expression of respect, admiration, 
love or reverence. Of whatever degree, it is an expression 
from the emotive nature. In this all the emotive divisions 
of the body respond together : eye first, chest, top of head, 
palm of hand. The free foot is inclined to swing behind 
the stroug foot, crossing behind it as the knees are crooked 
and the chest lowered- Bend at the hips. 

The hearty bow moves the body with a long diagonal 
sweep toward the strong foot. The formal bow, without 
heart, with the weight on both feet, bow more directly in 
front. The heathen bows or prostrates himself directly 
before his lifeless, loveless idol ; true warmth and hearty 
love and reverence give more sway and grace to the bow- 

With the meaning of the bow in mind overdo in practice. 
Bow slowly and profoundly. In one form : stand with the 
weight on the right foot, as the body is bowing, the chest 
lowered, sway the body toward the active right foot; on 
return to position, let the weight fall back onto the left foot 



PHYSICAL EXERCISES 33 

The eyes should not be allowed to drop while making 
a bow, save in humility or timidity, but should rest upon 
the person or persons to whom the respect is shown. 

Sitting and kneeling are simply forms of bowing, though 
sitting has not a similar significance in meaning. 

Practice with the weight on the right foot, bow, 2, 3, 4> 
1,2,3,4; rise, 2, 3, 4, 1, 2, 3, 4. 

After overdone practice, greet the friends with but a 
slight suggestion of that overdone, yet feel it pass like a 
wave passing over the entire body even as in the deep bow, 
with movements of ease, grace and expression instead of a 
bob or jerk of the head, so common, expressing an attack 
of recognition merely, but of little respect. Let us manifest 
all noble feeling in a noble manner. To associate exalted 
thought and Heeling with all the Physical Exercises adds 
much to their value giving fervor and earnestness. 



STRENGTH AT THE CENTER. 

Law. — Strength at the center gives freedom at the 
extremities. No law of Expression can be of greater value 
than this if fully appreciated and mastered. 

As we have said before, the chest is the center of the 
body, the center of physical strength, the center of feeling. 
Think of the chest as the great powerhouse and dynamo 
that demands attention that it may be supplied with all 
needed to maintain it and to prevent waste and leakage of 
valuable power. The nerve energy being wasted is quite 
as valuable as electricity and it is time to learn to save it 
for we need it in the serious business of life. 

We can readily understand it is a waste of electricity to 
turn on the lights in the day time, or to send out power 
when it is not needed. We may not be aware of the fact 
we are daily doing this very wasteful thing when we send 



34 THE ART OF RENDERING 

out to the hands or feet or head or any part of the body 
nerve force when it is not needed, or too much when it is 
needed, or what is still worse, leave it all turned on all the 
time. To illustrate what we mean by wasting the nerve 
energy, observe the child just learning to write. The little 
hand uses enough energy to drive a plane instead of a pen. 
Look at women out shopping grasping a hand bag with 
sufficient energy to hold the reins in driving a high-spirited 
horse. They return home wondering why they are so tired. 
To multiply illustrations is quite useless for you are apt 
to find a living illustration of this unconscious slavery in 
the first person you meet, even should it chance to be in the 
mirror. In fact very few have learned this priceless secret 
of economy of human energy. 

No attempt can be made in this limited space to treat 
fully this important matter. A few hints on the practical 
side of it may help the student to find out for himself the 
value of saving and wisely spending his life energy. 

We go to sleep and rest. We relax and the energy goes 
to vital centers of life and we are renewed in strength. We 
may not sleep while we are awake but we may train our- 
selves to rest while we are awake. Not to rest from our la- 
bors but rest in our labors. Those who gain this rare ability 
must be willing to pay the price for it. It cannot be taken 
like patent medicine from a spoon, leaving you only to just 
wait for a charm to be wrought upon you. It may not be 
attained by hearing about it though hearing may be needful. 

The race is to the swift. 

Get the idea of carrying the chest high — a noble atti- 
tude firmly fixed. Feel that in the chest is the center of 
life, the hub of the wheel. Learn to relax the extremities 
when not necessary to use them. Let the hands and feet 
relax and go to sleep when not employed. This is really 
easier said than done. We may tell a wire to relax, it may 



PHYSICAL EXERCISES 35 

try but cannot. We may tell a bow-string as stiff as a wire 
to relax. It is nearly as helpless as the wire, but as it is 
made of yielding material by working it and stretching it 
it may be limbered up so it can be made tense or slack at 
will. So there may need to be considerable working and 
stretching of muscles and tense cords before they can relax 
even when they will to do so. Stretching exercises make 
plastic and responsive. 

In exerting great energy send it out from the chest. In 
lifting think to put the strain on the chest instead of on 
the biceps. It often happens, the man with the great bi- 
ceps has a weak chest for the great arm muscles have been 
quietly robbing the vital organs and the weaker and more 
delicate muscles. The great athlete often suddenly breaks 
down, because the balance has been taken fiom the natural 
vital center and the harmony broken. 

In working for strength at the center, we may find an 
unerring guide in nature's own gymnastic : the yawn with 
a stretch. Observe how this homely exercise is performed. 
We first fill the lungs with a good full breath that seems 
to be drawn from the tips of the toes, then with the breath 
begin to lift the chest, raise one shoulder and the opposite 
limb a bit at the same time, send out the energy to all the 
extremities, hold tense an instant then relax — but not sud- 
denly — slowly the energy returns to the center, and we 
come out of it with a sense of being awakened and invig- 
orated or if not we try again. When we practice the Phys- 
ical Culture as yawn culture we come near to nature's way 
and need not fear the results. So let the yawn be a guide 
for the stretching in the physical exercises. There is a 
rhythm in this alternate, even contraction and relaxation 
of the muscles, quieting the nerves and stimulating as a 
nerve tonic. In taking the stretching, feel that the muscles 
are rubber — stretch slowly and evenly to their limit — let 



36 ART OF RENDERING 

the tension out evenly so the cords will not kink. In this 
way we may gain flexibility of body capable of responding 
to the most delicate thought and feeling, even as the violin 
strings may be attuned to finest expression because of the 
flexibility. So make the whole physical body flexible that 
there may be a responsive element for the divine soul 
within to play upon. 

PHYSICAL CULTURE NOTES. 

"The spinal column contains all of the motive power of 
man ; upon the spinal column depends all the symmetry of 
the body. Nearly every malformation results from wrong 
positions of the spinal column. Preach the gospel of the 
spinal column everywhere, as our physical culture is based 
upon it. The spinal column cannot be overstraightened. 
Elevating it produces instantaneous effect upon the stomach 
nerve, with very beneficial effect upon digestion. 

Going up stairs is hurtful or not, according to how it 
is done. The mind has much to do with it. If you feel 
hurried, you do not do it easily or gracefully. Think 
only of keeping the chest high, then the head seems to 
float up. Various ways of ascending stairs, — pounding up 
because a feeble will makes any one feeble ; bustling up 
out of breath. Don't put the foot up and climb up after it. 
Learn from the Greeks to poise the Mental Kingdom on 
the physical, with the mind shining from the candlestick 
of the body. Keep the crown of the head firm. Never 
surrender your manhood or womanhood to your activity — 
your individuality is greater than anything you can do ; 
maintain it ever. 

Leadership of the spinal column is the crown of the head, 
leadership of torso, the chest; of arm, between hand and 
elbow ; limb, in walking, half between the knee and ankle." 

Dr. Charles W. Emerson* 



THE BREATH 3? 

THE BREATH OF LIFE. 

The blood and breath are the vital forces of life; neither 
can exist without the other. It has come to be of greater 
importance that we have red blood in our veins than that 
we have blue blood even. It is the breath that keeps the 
flame of life glowing and gives the red blood. 

It makes a difference what you breathe, how you breathe, 
and how much you breathe. 

If all virtues of medicine, all kinds of physical exercises 
all kinds of voice culture could be summed up in one thing, 
it would come nearer to being a concentrated whole in this 
one act : correct breathing. It is through this more than 
through any one thing you may gain nerve to master your 
circumstances ; and in this way, if any may you " add years 
to your life and life to your years. " No person can any 
more afford to be careless about breathing than about other 
nourishment for his body. 

The advantages gained by cultivating the breath are very 
numerous; among them may be mentioned, health and 
strength ; a cure for nervousness and embarrassment ; in- 
crease of bodily warmth ; control ,of rhythmic circulation 
of the blood ; a basis for improved voice production and 
means of speech. 

" Calenus and Galen and other Greek and Roman phy- 
sicians recommended deep breathing and retention of air as 
a daily exercise and as a remedy. They believed thereby 
to increase the heat of the inner organism, to enlarge the 
chest, to strengthen the respiratory organs, to remove the 
impurities from the breast, to open the pores of the skin, 
to thin the skin itself, to drive the fluids through it. " 

Says Gladstone — " All time and money spent in train- 
ing the voice and body is an investment that pays a larger 
interest than any other. " 



38 THE ART OF RENDERING 

BREATH ORGANS. 

The Organs of Breath are the Diaphragm, Lungs \ 
Trachea and Bronchial tubes with all their Muscles 
and assisting Motive Organs, 

Think of the lungs themselves in a general way as a big 
rubber bag without power of its own to act. It possesses 
great elasticity and can be expanded. The pressure of the 
outside air comes in the lungs when opened and fills them as 
a bottle is filled with air when the cork is taken out. Of 
course certain muscles assist in pumping in the air besides. 
The air may be expelled from the lungs by the pressure of 
certain muscles. There are several ways of doing this, 
some of which are far from right, yet we pass without dis- 
cussion ; but will endeavor to present that which experience 
and careful investigation have shown to be the right way. 

However large and ample the lung capacity may be, nat- 
urally with a cramped chest there can be but little room for 
the expansion of the lungs, as the case of bone and flesh 
covering them is heavy, and easily crushes the very delicate 
lung tissue out of its rightful place and gives too little room 
for vigorous and healthy working. 

In expanding the lungs, first stand erect, lift the bony 
corselet with the ribs at the sides, lifting up and out like two 
bucket handles, that there may be room for the air of 
heaven to come in. Do not be satisfied with little sips of 
air, the whole heaven is full of it free at your disposal ; so 
as you value your life and want to nourish it partake freely 
of all of this life giving sustenance, and cultivate a camel's 
capacity for holding it. Feel as if the limbs are hollow 
tubes through which you draw the air into your body. In 
this way seem to breathe from the tips of the toes. Try to 
inflate the whole lung tract. And it is wonderful how 
accommodating the lungs are, how elastic, how quickly a 



THE BREATH 39 

little effort will cause them to expand. The progress may 
be noted with the aid of a Spirometer. 

As in blowing up a rubber bag you aim directly at the 
bottom of it first, in the same way aim to fill the lower part 
of the lungs first. 

People afflicted with some forms of lung difficulties 
often receive benefit by going to a climate of rarer atmos- 
phere. This kind of a change of climate makes it necessa- 
ry for the patient to breathe deeply in order to satisfy, thus 
making it needful to exert the breathing organs with more 
vigor. From this increased activity of the breath organs 
comes much of the benefit derived from the change. 
One may gain the same advantage at home by exerting 
the will and learning to expand the lungs and to take in 
the breath of life- 

When we consider how few people breathe correctly we 
must admit nature is very generous with her children, and 
compromises in every way possible to help out in some oth- 
er way, even making it more difficult for us to do wrong 
than to do right. 

Most people are unwilling to be convinced that they are 
breathing incorrectly, thus allowing themselves to be delud- 
ed and cheated. While being able to breathe naturally is an 
advantage, yet the trained cultivated breathing organs far 
surpass the natural. We find examples of natural breath- 
ing in animals and little children. The natural breathing 
in children begins to change when self consciousness begins; 
still greater changes come with embarrassment, which is little 
fear and disturbs the breath. 

The diaphragm is the great motor muscle concerned in 
breathing. This muscle may be trained even as a hand to 
work the bellows that supplies the wind for a great organ. 
The exercises for training this most important muscle will 
be found at close of the chapter under Breathing Exercises. 



40 THE ART OF RENDERING 

Lung capacity. Recognized authorities tell us that the 
lung capacity of a man of average height is 335 cubic inches. 
225 cubic inches of air can be expelled, while 109 cubic 
inches remain in the lungs. The lung capacity bears a uni- 
form relation to the height of the person — increasing 8 
cubic inches for every inch above 5 feet. When sitting or 
lying down the lung capacity is diminished. After a hearty 
meal the lung capacity is lessened from 10 to 20 cubic 
inches. 

Skill more than strength. Inspiration is the opening 
and enlarging of the chest cavity. Expiration is the dimin- 
ishing of the size of the chest cavity. Inhalation is the 
passive part of breathing. Exhalation is the active part 
of breathing. 

Inhale only through the nostrils." Shut the mouth 
and stretch the nostrils wide. " The reasons for doing so 
are plain. The nose is so made as to filter out the dust 
from the air, The crooked passage through the nostrils to 
the lungs affords an opportunity to warm the air, that it 
may be of the same temperature of the body before it comes 
into the lungs, that it may not chill the delicate membrane. 

Taking the breath through the nose prevents dryness in 
the throat of the speaker. The breath taken through the 
mouth, even in speaking or singing absorbs the saliva and 
causes dryness making it necessary to exert greater energy, 
causing unnecessary fatigue. 

The tongue pressed against the hard palate at the mo- 
ment of taking the breath serves as a barrier to prevent 
the passage of the air beyond through the mouth. 

Mouth breathing cannot be too strongly condemned. 
Aside from the bad effects on the organs of respiration, 
lungs, bronchial tubes, throat etc., it has a harmful influence 
on the nervous system. Careful tests show that mouth 
breathing weakens the intellect. The habitual mouth 




1. Windpipe 



BREATH ORGANS 

2. Lungs 



3. Diaphragm 



THE BREATH 41 

breathers of the public schools are, almost without excep- 
tion, dull and stupid and from no other cause than this 
vicious habit of breathing through the mouth. 

Athletes keep the mouth closed while under great physi- 
cal exertion. The mouth is closed in any feat requiring 
great physical power. 

" Upton's Tactics " which has been adopted as the offi- 
cial drill book of the United States Army contains the 
following — " In marching double time and at the run, 
the men breathe as much as possible through the nose, keep- 
ing the mouth closed. Experience has proved that by 
conforming to this principle men can go much further 
with less fatigue. v 

The face of the mouth breather is branded with an ex- 
pression that grows more and more repulsive the longer it 
is practiced- Dr. Clinton Wagner gives a picture of this face, 
" The habitual mouth breathers can at oDce be recognized, 
there is no mistaking them as the practice stamps itself 
indelibly on the physiognomy. The retracted lips, open 
mouth, receding gums, protruding teeth — especially the 
upper ones — shrunken alse, diminished size of the orifices 
of the nostrils, wrinkles at the outer angles of the eyes, 
giving the wearer an idiotic and silly expression, which is 
by no means agreeable to look upon. " The student will 
not need to search long among the wretched, who are not 
to be found entirely among the poor and ignorant for such 
faces as described above. When once the attention is called 
to the cause of such ugly faces and conditions, we should 
find here a warning in the impression of mouth breathing 
on the countenance, if it had no other, to prevent any sane 
person breathing through the mouth either asleep or awake- 

It has been proven beyond a doubt that a long list of 
lung, throat, nose and ear disorders, difficulties in other parts 
of the body, are traced directly to mouth breathing as a cause. 



42 THE ART OF RENDERING 

We are told that insanity and diseases of the mind 
are unknown among tribes of Indians who breathe through 
t he nose only. 

EXPRESSIONS OF THE BREATH. 

Says Delsarte — " Logical respiration constitutes respi- 
ration itself. Suspension expresses reticence, disquietude. 
Inspiration is an element of dissimulation, concentration, 
pain. Hence, we have normal, oppressive, spasmodic, su- 
perior, sibilant, rattling, intermittent, crackling, and hic- 
coughing, respiration. Expiration is an element of trust, 
expansion, confidence and tenderness. If the expression 
contains both pain and love, the inspiration and expiration 
will both be noisy; but the one or the other will predomi- 
nate according as pain predominates over love, or vice versa. 

The source of passional respiration lies in the heart. 
The effect of respiration is most powerful, for the slighter 
and more imperceptible the phenomena are, the more effect 
they have upon the auditors. " 

Respiration and silence are a means of falling exactly 
upon the suitable tone and inflection. 

As the breath has a powerful influence over the pulse 
to quicken or quiet its action the breath plays an impor- 
tant part in pause and pitch in expression. There seems to 
be a rhythmic relation between the pulse and breath and 
the pulsations of attention. Some verse we find is so ar- 
ranged as to breathe out a single idea with each expiration. 

The action of the breath may have some influence over 
the average length of sentences used by some writers. The 
" long winded " sentences are tedious and tiresome, while 
the sentences just suited to a gentle respiration with its 
proper pulse or accent charms the ear and holds the atten- 
tion. 



BREATHING EXERCISES 43 



BREATHING EXERCISES. 

In breathing, nearly all of the muscles of the trunk dt 
the body, both front and back, should be brought into ac- 
tion. The diaphragm is the great motor muscle in breath . 
ing and to the training of this muscle as the center of the 
breath we now turn our attention. A study of the physi- 
ology of this muscle would be helpful at this point. The 
active part of this muscle is in the middle of the organ. 
It has the power to contract and relax like a puckering 
string ; or it is a round muscle like the muscle around the 
mouth and can, like the mouth, pucker up at will, gently 
or forcibly. It is also an involuntary muscle and does its 
work so quietly many are never aware they own such a 
muscle ; but there it is waiting like a willing servant all 
ready to be trained for our service. Let us come into our 
possessions and train this dormant muscle and make of it a 
voluntary muscle, strong and active ready to help the breath, 
the circulation and the digestion. 

As we begin to train this muscle let us remember that 
" it is hard to teach an old dog new tricks. " With some 
the wrong way of taking the breath has become so settled 
and established through long practice, it is difficult to draw 
a breath save in the same old way. The involuntary is so 
much easier than the voluntary, besides the old servants 
cannot be turned out of business so easily. We also find 
that even when the new way is supposed to be settled and 
the new habit fixed, unconsciously the muscles fall back 
to the old way. There are a number of wrong ways with 
only one right way. The farther you travel on the wrong 
road, remember at this point, the farther you are from the 
destination — even farther away than before you ever start- 
ed. The old adage " Well begun is half done, " is partic- 
ularly applicable in learning the Breathing Exercises. 



44 THE ART OF RENDERING 

To gain a consciousness of the Diaphragm and to secure 
a sense of relaxation of the muscles of the waist, practice 
the following panting exercise. 

Exercise I. Panting. 

Place the hands lightly at the waist line, with muscles 
relaxed, pant like a dog when he is tired. This is to be 
done with the breath. Think to draw in the breath as if 
astonished or frightened, puff it out as if blowing out a 
candle. This may be practiced slowly at first then make 
the action rapidly when it becomes panting. Some find 
difficulty in the very simplicity of this exercise and fail be- 
cause of too great effort. Any such may practice the follow- 
ing to help in awakening the muscles used in the breathing 
exercises. Lie on the back with the clothing loose; place 
the hand on the waist in front ; raise and lower the hand 
by the inhaling and exhaling of the breath or panting as 
directed above. In beginning to train the diaphragm take 
some time, perhaps a week practicing daily the preliminary 
panting, and make sure of action of proper muscles before 
attempting other breathing exercises. 

Caution — Do not let the chest rise and fall in panting, 
keep it perfectly quiet with the action at the waist. The 
aim should be for a quiet chest in breathing. Aim also to 
gain more and more ability to relax the waist muscles and 
the diaphragm. Practice the panting a little in contrasting 
ways — the first named, with muscles of waist stiff, is wrong. 
First hold up the chest as high as possible, stiffen the waist, 
pant forcibly. Second, relax all possible, dropping the 
chest, pant easily and gently. " Shake the diaphragm 
down to a jelly. " Note the difference between the two ways; 
beware the first, cultivate the second. Work for a quiet 
chest, relaxed muscles at the waist, shaking like " jelly " 
the diaphragm. Breathing is an outgrowth of panting. 



BREATHING EXERCISES 45 

Exercise II. Contracting and Expanding. 
Place the hands at the waist near the floating ribs, with 
the chest perfectly quiet. Contract slowly through two 
measures — 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8. Expand through two 
measures — 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8. Repeat both Contracting 
and Expanding. Count silently so the action of the mus- 
cles may move slowly and evenly. Aim to bring into action 
the same muscles and in the same way as in the Panting 
Exercises, save with slower movements. See page 26. 

Exercise III. Hygienic Exercise. 

Lie flat on the back — the floor is a suitable place — 
with the body relaxed and dead still, save the breathing 
muscles, arms thrown over the head, or if too difficult, the 
hands may be placed at the waist as in the panting. Now 
slowly inhale, packing the lungs to their fullest capacity 
hold an instant, exhale slowly whispering " one, " prolong 
the breath as long as possible, at the last, contract the mus- 
cles tightly as if to squeeze out the last bit of air. Relax 
slowly and evenly. Repeat the same whispering " two, " 
and so continue to repeat up to " fifty " when you will be 
conscious of the fact you have exercised. If too vigorous 
for one in feeble health, the number of counts may be less 
but not the energy. Each should exert his full strength. 

Practice the same exercise for the voice by substituting 
the vowels for the counts which may be given in different 
ways, either whispering, spoken aloud or shouted, as may 
also the counting. Blowing also may be substituted. 

This exercise is positive and immediate aid for indigestion. 
It immediately quickens the circulation, for it is exercise. 
The dyspeptic will find it better than medicine, f or it brings 
the blood where it is needed to invigorate and give strength. 
For voice production train the breathing muscles till like 
bands of steel ; the diaphragm a muscle of resisting power. 



46 THE ART OF RENDERING 

Exercise IV. With Breathing Pipe. 

Beside the work to develop the breathing muscles and streng- 
then them there must be practice to gain breath capacity 
and breath control. These three points are almost concen- 
trated in the following exercise with the Breathing Pipe. 

Let us remember that the voice is produced with the out- 
going breath; the active part of breathing is this exhaling^ 
Too much breath sent out in making a tone destroys its 
purity. So work for breath control must advance with the 
increase in lung capacity. "We may cultivate a muscle by 
training it to move slowly, evenly, with energy through the 
alternating extremes of relaxation and tension. A quick, 
jerky movement requires less strength than a slow, even 
movement. Applying this to the breathing muscles we 
find in order to control them and to secure slow even action 
while inhaling and exhaling we may gain much of the de- 
sired control by practice with a breathing pipe. A short 
piece of hollow reed or piece of a clay pipe stem may serve 
for a breathing pipe. Place this between the lips through 
which you may inhale and exhale. While this practice 
is through the mouth it is not to encourage mouth breath- 
ing but, more particularly, to train the diaphragm and other 
breathing muscles to send out a small, even, vigorous flow 
of breath. When inhaling through the nostrils it is quite 
impossible for one to take in a small stream of air. When 
one exhales through the mouth the breath is not easily con- 
trolled, before the muscles are trained, but comes with a puff 
over the vocal cords. In this, aim to inhale and to ex- 
hale a small, even, concentrated stream of breath and to 
train the breath organs that they may attain skill in per- 
forming all their work. 

To practice this exercise : after panting, place the breath- 
ing pipe between the lips ; inhale slowly at the same time 
raise both arms as in Inhaling, Exercise VII. Page 27. 



BREATHING EXERCISES 47 

When the arms are lifted as high as possible and the lungs 
filled, hold an instant, — exhale slowly through the pipe as 
the arms are lowered. Pant, — Inhale, — Hold, — Exhale. 
Repeat five or six times at a practice time. Practice daily ? 
you may do so to advantage several times a day, in open air. 

One should be able to inhale from 30 to 45 seconds and 
to exhale the same length of time. The first efforts will be 
less than this. The beginner need not be discouraged if 
his best is only 10 seconds, Should it be so, here is an op- 
portunity to test what persistent effort will accomplish in a 
short space of time. In whatever stage of practice never 
try to do more than can be done without straining, lest 
there be injury instead of growth. 

It is more important to prolong the outgoing a little Ion. 
ger than the ingoing breath, for it is on the outgoing breath 
we send out the speech and song. As the prolonged exha- 
lation is more difficult for some than the inhalation, the ex- 
halation may be prolonged somewhat longer if the inhala- 
tion is not prolonged to the full limit of the capacity. 
Do all gently. Do not force the breath. There should be 
no sound. 

This exercise may be varied giving vigorous exercise for 
all the breathing muscles,especially the diaphragm, giving 
it sustaining power. Practice the same as that given above 
lifting a chair or some weight above the head while inhal- 
ing, lowering it while exhaling. The panting should be 
taken while bending over the back of the chair before the 
inhaling and lifting it at arm's length overhead. To this 
drill with the chair may be substituted voice exercises in 
the place of exhaling through the pipe as the arms are 
lowered. Remember, in voice production it is not so much 
how full you are able to fill the lungs with air as how 
to manage and control it when you come to spend it. Skill 
comes through repetition, repetition, repetition. 



48 THE ART OF RENDERING 



THE VOICE. 

" The voice is like an orchestra. It ranges high up, and 
can shriek like the scream of an eagle; or it is low as a 
lion's tone ; and at every intermediate point is some peculiar 
quality. It has in it the mother's whisper and the father's 
command. It has in it warning and alarm. It has in it 
sweetness. It is full of mirth and full of gaiety. It glitters 
though it is not seen with all its sparkling fancies. It ranges 
high, intermediate or low, in obedience to the will, uncon- 
scious to him who uses it ; and men listen through the long 
hour, wondering that it is so short, and quite unaware that 
they have been bewitched out of their weariness by the 
charm of a voice, not artifical, not prearranged in man's 
thought, but by assiduous training made to be his second 
nature. Such a voice answers the soul, and is its beating. " 

Henry Ward Beecher. 

" There is no power of love so hard to get and keep as a 
kind voice. A kind hand is deaf and dumb. It may be 
rough in flesh and blood, yet do the work of a soft heart, 
and do it with a soft touch. But there is no one thing that 
love so much needs as a sweet voice to tell what it means 
and feels ; and it is hard to get and keep it in the right tone. 
One must start in youth, and be on the watch night and 
day, at work and play, to get and keep a voice that shall 
speak at all times the thoughts of a kind heart. It is often 
in youth that one gets a voice or a tone that is sharp, and 
it sticks to him through life, and stirs up ill will and grief, 
and falls like a drop of gall on the sweet of home. Watch 
it day by day as a pearl of great price, for it will be worth 
more to you in days to come than the best pearl hid in the 
seas. A kind voice is to the heart as light is to the eye. 
It is a light that sings as well as shines- " Elihu Burritt. 



THE VOICE 49 

There is nothing in the nature of man more intimately 
connected with his happiness than the human voice. By 
it we may manifest our desires and feelings, hold communi- 
cation with our friends and convey to them words of cheer 
hope and encouragement. By the aid of the voice we ob- 
tain instruction, and by its aid we may impart it to others. 
In business life, in public life, in the home circle the voice 
is daily employed ; should we bestow on it a passing thought 
we would find it is of tenfold the importance we had ever 
once given it. 

" There is no one thing in man that he has in perfection 
till he has it by culture. " 

" The Voice in rudimentary state, is like an image leav- 
ing the mould ; a canvas with the design, without the em- 
broidery ; the mere outline of an instrument ; a body with- 
out a soul. " 

FIRST STEPS IN VOICE CULTURE. 

The first steps in Voice Culture are quite the same as the 
first steps toward purchasing a grand piano. Do not mis- 
understand — purchasing a piano. Not having it given, 
but having to personally earn the means for it. Having 
no instrument, no money, no capital save a desire to own 
so great a treasure. If the desire be genuine and strong 
the other difficulties soon vanish. So the first steps in voice 
culture must be a high ideal to awaken a desire. This 
must be more than a burst of schoolgirl enthusiasm, but a 
deep, settled longing after an inborn ideal, strong enough 
to cost sacrifice and make one willing to do genuine hard 
work. Voice Culture cannot be given only as the learner 
is able to take. Begin this study then with lofty ideals, for 
we must ever remember : water never rises higher than its 
source, As the study advances, it charms and grows ideals 
Second in our studv comes a knowledge of the instrument. 



50 THE ART OF RENDERING 

ORGANS OF VOICE. 

While the human voice has been compared to an orches- 
tra, yet when we consider the instrument, it is like an organ 
with its bellows, its vibrating tongues, its body to modify 
the tone. 

Briefly stated : voice is produced by the air from the 
lungs passing over the vocal cords, being modified by 
the cavities of the mouth and nose. 

The vocal cords are in structure, a bundle of elastic 
tissues, covered with mucus membiane, in color a pearly 
white. They are capable of wonderful rapidity of motion. 
Average length in man a little more than \ inch, in woman 
some less. As in the violin, the more the cords are tightened 
the higher the tone ; the more the cords are slackened the 
lower the tone. 

The glottis is the opening between the vocal cords. 
The high tones with tense cords make the chink of the 
glottis narrow. The low tones with the cords relaxed give 
wide opening of the glottis. The medium tones make the 
medium opening of the chink of the glottis. 

The larynx is the expanded upper end of the trachea 
or windpipe. The Larynx may be depressed to produce a 
low tone — for the deepest tone it may be depressed J inch. 
For the highest tones the larynx may rise \ inch. 

Resonance of the voice depends on the cavities of the 
mouth, nose and chest, making a secondary vibration with 
the vocal cords. The vibration of the vocal cords is mod- 
ified and mellowed by these resonators as the violin body 
is made to vibrate with the strings, or the box of the piano 
with its strings. The resonance modifying the first tone 
may also be illustrated by a tuning fork. Ring it, listen; 
hold it against the table. Ring it again, hold it against a 
glass; again, now against a silver bell ; against different 



THE VOICE 51 

objects and note how the same tone from this tuning fork 
is changed in quality by the article it touches. Note also 
how hard substance gives a clearer ring than soft substance. 
Ring the tuning fork once more, place it against a silver 
bell ; again, now against a rubber ball. Let us remember 
for our profit this simple fact : hard substance modifies the 
tone giving a clear ringing sound while soft substance gives 
a muffled, deadened sound. In taking advantage of this 
self evident, simple fact and right use of the breath lie the 
secrets of voice development. Think again how the voice 
is formed : the breath passing over the vocal cords giving 
a sound like the tuning fork but what we hear in the voice 
is modified by the mouth cavity, nose and chest. Let us 
examine some of these modifiers and find out what kind of 
substance they are made of. We find in the front of the 
roof of the mouth a hard, firm bone, in the back of the 
mouth quite the opposite, soft yielding substance. "We may 
naturally decide that it makes quite a difference which of the 
two vibrates with the vocal cords, the front or the back of 
the mouth, for the difference in substance is as the silver 
bell compared with the rubber ball. Let us learn to use 
this bone in the front of the mouth, called the nares, as the 
resonator instead of the back of the mouth, for it is the hard- 
est, firmest bone in the body. Let us think of the nares as 
the center of the voice. The voice being allowed to fall 
back into the throat for resonance accounts for the cause of 
so many poor voices and for the cause of many forms of 
throat disorders. Throat diseases of a chronic character 
are relieved and cured by training the resonance of the 
voice to focus in the hard bone in the front of the mouth. 
This fact concerning the resonance in the front of the 
mouth is no longer kept a guarded secret, being bequeathed 
as a legacy and sold for fabulous prices, but its value is 
still unchanged and here it is revealed, free for your profit. 



52 THE ART OF RENDERING 

Rule y — Front tones are human ; back tones are 
animal. Tone made to vibrate in the front of the mouth 
may be made u clear as a silver bell, " with wonderful car- 
rying power, because it is musical. The tones formed in 
the throat are dull and rasping, harsh noises, requiring far 
greater exertion and, consequently, soon cause fatigue. 
The front tones are produced with perfect ease and like the 
rare old violin, grow sweeter with age. We can well 
afford to give careful study to this point of resonance. 

There are three essentials in producing tone, either with 
a musical instrument or the human voice, — a motive ele- 
ment, — a vibratory element, — a resonant element. In the 
organ the power that operates the bellows is the motor ele- 
ment. The reeds or little tongues are the vibrant element. 
The body of the organ, with certain parts, specially arranged 
for that purpose is the resonant element. 

In the violin the hand that wields the bow is the motor, 
the strings the vibrant, the body of the violin the resonant. 

In the piano the motor element is in the fingers that 
strike the keys causing little hammers to strike the strings 
which are the vibratory element. The vibrations of the 
strings are modified by the body of the piano and the space 
within it, making it mellow and resonant. The quality of 
the tone may be changed by lifting the top of the piano. 

The human voice is much like the organ. The Motor 
element is the diaphragm, — the Vibrant element, the vocal 
cords; the mouth and nasal cavities, the chest and other 
parts of the body are the Resonant element. 

The organ builder gives careful and patient attention to 
adjusting all parts, that the bellows may be ample in size 
and just strong enough for the work it is to do — that 
the power that furnishes the air works evenly and vigorous- 
ly — that the vibrating tongues or reeds have free play — 
that nothing obstructs the sound after it is once produced. 




VIBRATORY ORGANS OP VOICE 

1. Vocal Cords 3. Pharynx 5. Hard Palate 

2. Larynx 4. Trachea 

TENSION OF VOCAL CORDS 

1. High Pitch 2. Low Pitch 3. Medium Pitch 



THE VOICE 53 

Then beside all this, much care and thoughtful attention 
must be given to the resonant body : the pipes, the stops; 
how to reinforce and modify all into a harmony pleasing 
and musical. 

We can hardly say too much of the importance of develop- 
ing the lungs to their fullest capacity. It is surprising 
how readily the lungs may be expanded, sometimes to dou- 
ble their undeveloped capacity. A great lung capacity 
without corresponding breath control, especially the out- 
going breath, is of no advantage to the voice. Too much 
wind forced against the reeds of the organ makes the tone 
wheezy and impure. Too much air from the lungs gives 
a breathy, labored tme in either speech or song. 

VIBRATORY AGENTS OF THE VOICE. 

The culture of the Vibratory agents of the voice, the 
vocal cords, is left largely to the soul that must play upon 
these mystic strings with thought and feeling, yet teachers 
of voice attempt to give exercises for tensioning the vocal 
cords — for the stroke of the glottis etc. This particular, 
delicate work best be taken under the direction of a careful, 
experienced teacher. 

The Larynx may be exercised by use of the following — 
E- ( as in eve. ) a- ( as in father. ) oo- ( as in boon.) 
Larynx may be lowered on e, a, oo. 
Larynx may be raised on oo, A, e. 

The drill to develop resonance in the nares,and the drill 
for dynamic, proper breathing,reward the student's efforts 
with immediate results indicating a start and growth most 
encouraging, when the exercises have been faithfully taken. 
In the efforts to focus the voice in the front of the mouth 
the student may know and feel the vibrations distinctly. 
To illustrate and leave no room for blunder, the student is 
asked to hold lightly the bridge of the nose, closing thenos- 



54 THE ART OF RENDERING 

trils, pronounce " knee, knee, knee, " observe the little vi- 
bration or buzz in the nose against the fingers. This kind 
of tingle, buzz, or ring or vibration of the hard bone just 
back of the upper, front teeth is what we should aim to se- 
cure. The vowel formed farthest front is long e. Repeat 
" E, e, e, M many times rapidly and note the vibrations in 
the front of the mouth. 

Caution. In working for this quality in the voice, while 
practicing the following exercises, there are two important 
points to observe — Do not practice any of this series 
of voice building exercises forcibly. Gently, gently. 
Loudness overshoots the mark. Noise is not music. 
Force tensions the muscles of the throat and pinches off 
the vibrations and defeats the whole effort. 

The second point is more difficult than the first, — 
Start the tone with the breath, snuff it through the 
nose as if gently blowing thistle down or some airy 
substance through the nose. Whisper the exercise first 
then make the tone, always as gently as possible, 

VOICE EXERCISES. 

Exercise I. 
Hold the nose, practice up and down the scale, letting go 
the nose on the seventh note coming down the scale when 
the tone should ring clear. Practice " knee, " 

knee knee 

knee knee 

knee knee 

kn ee knee 

knee knee 

knee knee 

knee knee 

knee knee 



VOICE EXERCISES 55 

Exercise II, 
Practice " hng " up and down the scale, letting it ring in 
the roof of the mouth and the nasal cavity. Let the mouth 
come well open, wide enough to insert between the teeth the 
width of the first and second fingers.Let the lower jaw hang 
lifeless, the throat open as if to yawn. Inhale through the 
nose, making one breath last as long as possible. 

hng hng 



hng 


hng 


hng 


hng 


hng 


hng 


hng 


hng 


hng 


hng 


hng 


hng 


hng 


hng 



Exercise III. 
Practice the same as Exercise II. " hng-ah-nah " up and 
down the scale. 

Exercise IV. 
Practice up and down the scale with much lip action. 
" Mnome. " 

Exercise V. 
Practice with much lip action on three pitches, the voice 
medium, high and low — " Most men want poise and more 
royal margin. " 

Exercise VI. 
Say lightly on different scales and pitches, prolonging 
at the close « ah. " " 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, ah. " 

Exercise VII. 
Practice saying and singing on different pitches, prolong- 
ing " o " and " en " in " golden, golden, golden, golden." 



56 THE ART OF RENDERING 

Open the mouth that the tone may come out. You 
may as well place the hand over the mouth in producing 
tone as to keep the mouth closed or the jaws near together. 
The tone so is muffled and shorn of carrying power. 
A device for opening the mouth used by some teachers gives 
an idea of the position of the jaws for the leading vowels. 
The ivory wedge to place between the teeth while making 
a tone is 2 \ inches long at the base, 1| inches at the long 
end and i inch on the short end with 18 notches on the 
upper edge. With this wedge we may test ourselves and 
find what we are able to do, though we should not use it in 
voice drill as it would cause unnatural action of the muscles. 
A pronounced as in the word father opens the jaws the 
widest, as measured by the ivory wedge, 10 to 14 notches. 

o as in rose from 8 to 12 notches. 

A as in pale from 4 to 6 notches. 

oo as in coo, from 6 to 8 notches. 

e as in see the least open 

Order of exercise — A, o, A, oo, e Sounds as above 
A as in father is the vowel on which the voice should be 
most frequently exercised. 

Practice also lists of woids with th# following vowels — ■ 



o as in moan. ( e as in breeze. 



A as in ah. * 1 A as in day. 

oo as in moon. A as in that. 



u as in use. . f e as in end. 

4 j • • 

I as in night. ' 1 i as in it. 

u as in up. • oy as in joy, 



\ 



ou & ow as in loud. 
A as in and. 
A.R as in air. 



VOICE EXERCISES . 57 

The speech organs are passive in the vowels and active 
in the consonants. 

The tongue must be trained to lie flat in the mouth 
and not be allowed to take a whale-back shape in the back 
or middle of the mouth ; rather the reverse shape. This is 
the unruly member, but it must not be allowed to rise up 
and obstruct the tone. While it is unruly, exercise with a 
mirror shows it too can be trained. 

The throat must be open and free. A stiff jaw puts 
a strain on the throat and closes it, giving hard tones and 
makes voice production tiresome and injurious to the throat 
mangles the words, making them indistinct 

A complete list of exercises for each set of muscles sepa- 
rately might be given for opening the mouth, for lowering 
the tongue, for opening the throat, for relaxing the jaw, but 
all may be condensed into one simple exercise, thus saving 
time and producing better results. 

Yawning relaxes all the muscles of the throat and 
jaw, relaxes and flattens the tongue and opens the 
mouth. 

In practicing — draw in the breath, yawn, making the 
throat pear shaped. Now the muscles are in readiness for 
voice exercises. 

Still another idea to secure relaxation, open throat and 
open mouth : try to think the lower jaw is useless in making 
tone. It is physical, so drop the jaw and tongue as if not 
needed, especially in song ; the voice being produced above 
the larynx then resounding in the roof of the mouth. 

The lips must not be allowed to be drawn tightly over 
the teeth as they slightly prevent the unobstructed tone. 
Practice with a smile to lift the lip from the teeth. Let it 
be a smile from within and from the eyes ; not altogether a 
if grin. " "With a clear passage from the vocal cords, tone 
has the right of way and will grow in strength and beauty. 



58 THE ART OF RENDERING 

After once securing a clear understanding of the reasons 
of the foregoing Voice Exercises, all may be summed up in 
short gymnastics of the voice to be used in daily voice drill, 
requiring only a few minutes at each practice time. Daily, 
systematic work, even though little time is given to it, will 
yield better results than irregular exercise. Repetition, rep- 
etition, repetition with thoughtful practice will transform 
the natural into the cultured, beautiful, responsive voice. 
Remember " the constant dropping wears the rock. " 

In this brief space we have not exhausted the subject of 
voice exercise, but have given the fewest possible of the 
best and the most essential exercises for voice building. 

ORDER OF DAILY VOICE DRILL. 

I. Panting. 

II. Breathing Exercise. ( Exercise IV. with pipe.) 

III. Voice Exercise I — "knee." 

IV. Voice Exercise II — "ring." 

V. Voice Exercise III — " hng-ab-nah. " 

VI. Voice Exercise IV — " mnome. " 

VII. Voice Exercise V — * most men want poise. " 

VIII. Voice Exercise VI— « 1,2, 3, 4, 5,6, ah. " 

IX. Voice Exercise VII — " golden. " 

Practice the above voice exercises with the relaxed, pear 
shaped throat as if ready to yawn. Take the panting be- 
fore each breathing and before each voice exercise. Keep 
up the breathing exercises, the work for resonance, for the 
proper action of the jaw, tongue, lips, and throat. Do not 
be discouraged because of the many things to be done. 
Take plenty of time to do this work well, giving the voice 
time enough to grow and become established. It is to be 
your own for life. It necessarily requires time to train these 
delicate, wonderful muscles of the voice to respond in a new 



THE VOICE 59 

way, naturally. We may be surprised to find how readily 
the muscles go back to the old way of producing tone, es- 
pecially is this true when one is not in the best humor. 
The old muscles are so used to responding they spring into 
action before one is aware. 

Much may be gained by silent practice, by thought, and 
by gently whispering and humming the voice exercises^ 
using care to bring into play the proper muscles as when 
practicing aloud. The whispering and humming haye the 
advantage of no strain on the throat. In the early part of 
this work do not use the voice in singing or speaking care- 
lessly or loudly, but treat the voice organs while learn- 
ing, to yield themselves to be awakened and trained as deli- 
cate creatures, newly born requiring gentle nurture in 
their infancy. It is best to leave the heavier exercises of 
the voice — especially the impure qualities found in some 
readings, till the voice has become well established. But 
should it be found necessary to do some of this heavy work, 
the voice may be saved much strain by putting the expres- 
sion on to the body instead of the voice. To illustrate — 
In the quarrel scene between Cassius and Brutus in Shake- 
speare's " Julius Csesar, " Cassius says, — " Urge me no 
more, I shall forget myself : have mind upon your health, 
tempt me no further. " In this threat the muscles of the 
body should be tense, the fists clenched in anger. This 
bodily action relieves the voice and is as if the expression 
were from life and natural ; but if in making this angry 
threat the muscles are relaxed and the strain of this assumed 
feeling comes on the voice this agent of expression would be 
overloaded and thereby injured. Should it be necessary 
to overload any part, let it be the large muscles of the body 
as in gesture rather than the most delicate muscles of 
all, the muscles of the voice. Let the action of the body 
lead. This helps to give natural expression to the voice. 



60 THE ART OF RENDERING 

We may wonder why we are hedged in with such caution 
as to the use of the voice but a child can kick and scream 
all day and come out with a voice uninjured for the next 
day. Let an adult try to imitate the child's cry and he 
has rasped the throat and made himself hoarse in five min- 
utes. It would seem in this the child has superior skill to 
the man. But the child obeys natures laws and kicks 
and screams all over. The man screams only with his 
throat which is unnatural to put on the voice alone. The 
child's scream comes from his innermost, from the man 
it is a cry " put on, " so it instantly makes him hoarse. 

Great care should be exercised in expressing the baser 
passions and emotions. No person should undertake to 
render selections of this character who has a throat trouble, 
only as the body is able to lead in the expression. 

The mechanical drill and gymnastics of the voice are of 
great value which may be increased by associating noble 
thought and feeling with the practice for voice building, but 
all artistic, magnetic effects come from the thought and 
feeling, expressions of the mind and soul. Let us think of 
the vibrations and resonance of the voice as the physical 
medium — the telegraph wire, if you please, over which 
travel the magnetic messages from the mind and soul. 
Though the voice be the medium, important as it is, yet the 
messages to be sent out are far greater. The voice is the 
mystic hand with which we reach out from our minds and 
souls and touch the very minds and souls of those around 
us. If the spirit within be gentle and filled with the love of 
human welfare, then will the touch of this hand be most 
gracious and charming, blessing whatever it touches, and 
attracting by its magnetic sweetness. If, on the other hand, 
the life within be a den of wild beasts, then the touch of 
the voice will be as the sting of the serpent, the growl, the 
snarl that cause anxiety and fear. 



THE VOICE 61 

Voice culture should begin with soul and mind culture 
and should end with mind and soul culture. The voice is 
like the perfume of a flower, subtle and mysterious in its 
influence, yet ever certain in effectiveness. A beautiful 
voice is more to be coveted than costly jewels, yet is within 
the reach of nearly every person who will appreciate its 
worth and cultivate the voice organs and develop the latent 
possibilities within. A good voice is often thought to be 
a gift. In reality, vocal cords, diaphragm and voice organs 
are gifts common to all. All own a musical instrument far 
superior to any mechanical instrument ever produced by 
mechanical skill, in the human voice. No one has a right 
to own a disagreeable voice, when a little study and drill 
will result in improvement to any one. 

The student will note as he progresses that the more res- 
onant the voice grows the less breath is used in making 
tone. Breath control helps to make the voice resonant. 
It will be found that breathing exercises aid the voice and 
voice exercises aid the breath. The progress of both may 
be tested by inhaling and counting aloud as far as possible. 

Volume of voice : deep, rich tones should be cultivated. 
Chest resonance should be cultivated with resonance of the 
nares. Chest resonance may be felt by placing the hand 
on the chest and in lowest pitch repeat " awe, awe, awe. " 
Volume of voice comes from the mind side. Drill for this 
element of voice is found under Volume of Voice in the 
" Studies in Rendering. " 

Scientific experiments reveal the fact that there are flow- 
ers of speech not only in a literary but in a real sense made 
by vibrations of the voice. The cultured voice vibrates in 
waves producing varied flowers and geometric shapes. 
The following illustrations are of the voice vibrations on a 
delicate film, given in the famous lecture " Harp of the 
Senses, " by John B. DeMotte, A. M. Ph. D. 



THE ART OF RENDERING 



GESTURE. 

Gesture may be defined as muscular expression, also as 
visible expression. Gesture is the interpreter of the emo- 
tions ; it is the language of the soul. Gesture appeals to 
the innermost soul of the beholder. Gesture is an elliptical 
language given to man to express what speech is power- 
less to say. There is something marvelous in the language 
of gesture. " A gesture, like a ray of light, can reflect all 
there is in the soul. " It has relations with another sphere. 
It is the world of grace. " Gesture is carving in the air. " 
Gesture is magnetic. Gesture is soul communicating with 
soul. It is even more than music, or any other form of ex- 
pression, a universal language. Gesture is the ancestor of 
the word and goes before it to foretell its coming. 

Of the three modes of manifesting thought. — word, voice, 
gesture — gesture stands the highest. It is the language of 
our highest nature. It makes appeal to the highest by way 
of the finest of the senses, the eye. Some may not at first 
see the way clear to accept the statement concerning the 
rank of gesture as compared with voice and the spoken 
word but study will convince one of the importance of this 
subtle language. Culture of the muscles and how to speak 
through them require special study and exercise, for skill 
can no more be attained, without effort, than skill of a 
pianist can be acquired through the study of mere theory. 
In this, one becomes by doing. The gesture language is not 
so much with many a " dead language n as a dormant 
language. 

11 The body needs educating as well as the mind. " A 
person without this physical education, even though he may 
have the mental, should not presume to set himself up as an 
authority being guided by his own blind fancy, a case of 





Impressions made by VIBRATIONS OP VOICE cm a 
delicate Him 

* r. Photographed from experiments with the voice in the laboratory of 
of Prof. John B. DeMotte, A. M., M. D., Ph. D. and reproduced here' by 
his permission. 



GESTURE 63 

the blind leading the blind, an invasion not to be tolerated 
in any other department of study. A thorough knowledge 
of this muscular language requires careful investigation 
as that of anatomy by the student of medicine before he can 
secure his M. D. The medical student must dissect and 
examine the muscles themselves, while the student of ex- 
pression must study the action of the muscles under the 
influence of endless emotions playing upon them. He also 
must study this subject in a twofold manner — as self ex- 
pression and as the impression the gesture makes on the 
listener or beholder. 

Gesture is important in that it reveals the noble emotions 
of the soul. As we manifest our noble emotions through 
the muscles we also cultivate and refine the feelings while 
we cultivate the muscles. Gesture makes its appeal to the 
highest of the five senses, the eye. That which offends 
the eye cannot be tolerated. But what charms the eye will 
allow other defects to pass. " If the gesture is good, the 
most wretched speaker is tolerated. '■' 

By gesture we do not mean gesticulating with some part 
of the body — the hand and arm, for instance, with the rest 
of the body dead still. Such action is a spasm rather than 
gesture. 

One definition of the word muscle is " a little mouse. " 
The ancients compared the action of the muscles to mice 
under the skin. We may use this ancient idea to illustrate 
a principle of value in gesture. Suppose one mouse be- 
came frightened and bristled with fear; we can readily see 
what the result would be should there be more than two 
hundred of them instead of one expressing the same thing. 
Should there be a single one in the number that kept it- 
self inactive while all the others were wild with action, we 
could but think it stupid or asleep or dead. With the per- 
son whose muscles have not been awakened it happens that 



64 THE ART OF RENDERING 

the two hundred or more are asleep with one awake and 
active to respond to the feeling. This is an imperfect ex- 
pression. We may sum up the whole matter into a Law — 

The highest expression results when the greatest num- 
ber of muscles unite in harmonious action. 

There would be a decided lack of harmony, if some of the 
muscles were inactive, others stiffened with chronic pride or 
anxiety. Any effort to secure a harmony of action has its 
reward in feelings of poise and self possession. 

We may simplify this complicated study of gesture by 
dividing it up under headings — the culture of the mus- 
cles — a knowledge of Expression. A knowledge of 
expression would include self expression and the ability to 
interpret in others. We should also be ablejto know some- 
thing of the kind of impression an expression is likely to 
make or does make on the listener or beholder. The first 
named, the culture of the muscles is treated under the chap- 
ter on Physical Culture. The second, the study of Expres- 
sion has an almost limitless field. We may say, wherever 
we find life we find some kind of expression worthy of our 
attention ; and all the Arts, especially music, painting and 
sculpture. Of great importance is the study of human ex- 
pression from life on the streets, in public or private, any- 
where. Children, animals and even birds offer a rich field. 
It is well to keep a note book for this purpose also a scrap 
book for reproductions of paintings and artistic pictures 
and photographs from life. Studies of statuary and works 
of the masters help one to form correct ideals ; then with a 
free body, natural expression should result, after the laws of 
expression and the ideals are established in the subjective 
mind. A careful study of laws of expression can not be 
over estimated- We should so prize the truth as to be 
willing to accept it though it may not be of some favorite 
system v Delsarte's Nine Laws of Gesture contain much 



LAW OF MOTION 65 

from a Philosophy of great value in all the fine arts. In 
substance they are as follows. 

LAW OF MOTION. 

Motion is force expending itself. Gesture is the mus- 
cular action by zvhich the soul expresses itself. 

There are three kinds of motion : — 
Eccentric or from the center. 
Concentric or tozvard the center. 
Poised or balanced. 

All thought or feeling is either of self or something 
outside of self or a blending together of the two. 

Thought about any thing outside of self requires ec- 
centric motion. 

Thought about self requires concentric motion. 

Thought about self and something outside of self 
at the same time requires poised motion. 

Eccentric motion is in harmony with the physical 
side of the being. It has to do with objective thought. 

Concentric motion is subjective and has to do with 
concentric, mental states. 

Poised motion is expressive of exalted moods and 
noble emotions. 

Examples of Eccentric Motion, — 

Ye eagles, playmates of the mountain storm ! 
Ye lightnings, the dread arrows of the clouds ! 
Ye signs and wonders of the elements ! 
Utter forth God and fill the hills with praise. 

Coleridge 



66 THE ART OF RENDERING 

" The battle, the battle ! How goes the battle? " 

" Be it said in letters both bold and bright : 
Here is the steed that saved the day 

By carrying Sheridan into the fight 

From Winchester — twenty miles away. " 

Examples of Concentric Motion. 

" The tender tune, faint floating, plays, 
In moonlit lays, a melody of other days. " 

" O Hamlet speak no more : 
Thou turn'st mine eyes into my very soul : 
And there I see such black and grained spots 
As will not leave their tinct. " 

Examples of Poised Motion. 

" My heart is awed within me, when I think 
Of the great miracle that still goes on 
In silence round me, — the perpetual work 
Of thy creation, finished yet renewed forever. " 

" My lord, if you ask me, if in my life-time 
I thought any treason, or did any crime 
That should call to my cheek, as I stand alone here, 
The hot blush of shame or the coldness of fear, 
Though I stood by the grave to receive my death-blow, 
Before God and the world I would answer you, no ! " 

" My bounty is as boundless as the sea, 
My love as deep ; the more I give to thee, 
The more I have, for both are infinite. " 

Passion tends to expansion. Thought tends to con- 
traction. Love or affection moderates gesture. 



LAW OF VELOCITY 67 

LAW OF VELOCITY. 

Velocity is in proportion to the mass moved and the 
force moving it. Sublime sentiment with profound ap- 
preciation moves slowly. Light feeling moves rapidly. 

Examples of Slow Movement, — 

And slowly, slowly, more and more, 
The moony vapor rolling around the king, 
Who seem'd the phantom of a giant in it, 
Enwound him fold by fold, and made him grey 
And greyer, till himself became as mist 
Before her, moving ghost-like to his doom. 

Tennyson, 

" It must be by his death and for my part, 
I know no personal cause to spurn at him, 
But for the general. He would be crown 'd. 
.... What he is, augmented, 
Would run to these and these extremities : 
And therefore, think him as a serpent's egg which, 
Hatched, would, as his kind, grow mischievous, 
And kill him in the shell. " 

" The heavens declare the glory of God; and the firma- 
ment showeth his handy work. Day unto day uttereth 
speech, and night unto night showeth knowledge. There 
is no speech nor language where their voice is not heard. " 

The above lines read by a careless schoolboy would move 
more rapidly than if rendered by one who could compre- 
hend and appreciate the full value of the thought. 
Whatever the sentiment the above law holds good. In 
speech large bodies move slowly. Superficial sentiment 
moves lightly as in the following examples. 



68 THE ART OF RENDERING 

Examples of Rapid Movement. 

11 Fill again to the brim! again to the brim! 
For water strengthened life and limb ! 
To the days of the aged it addeth length, 
To the might of the strong it addeth strength ; 
It freshens the heart, it brightens the sight, 
' Tis like quaffing a goblet of morning light ! " 

" Oh, the buxom girls that help the boys, 

The nobler Helens of the humbler Troys 
As they strip the husk with rustling fold 

From eight re wed corn as yellow as gold, 
By the candle-light, in pumpkin bowls, 

And the gleams that showed fantastic holes 
In the quaint old lantern's tattooed tin, 

From the hermit glim set up within ; 
By the rarer light in girlish eyes 

As dark as wells, or as blue as skies. " 

LAW OF DIRECTION. 

The lengths are vital. The heights and depths are 
mental. The breadths are emotive. Concentration 
tends toward our selfish states, while giving out and 
going out of self corresponds to our benevolent states. 

Example of Vital Action in Lengths. 

Lie still, lie still ! till I lean o'er 
And clutch your red blade to the shore. 
Ha, ha ! Take that, and that, and that ! 
Ha ! ha ! So through your coward throat 
The full day shines ! Jaquin Miller. 

Down Eros ! Up Mars ! Chariot Race." Ben-Hur. " Wallace. 



LA W OF DIRECTION 69 

In meditation and other thoughtful moods the eyes 
seek the blue — either the height of the blue sky or 
the depth of the blue water. 

Examples of Mental Action in Heights and Depths, — 

When I consider Thy heavens, the work of Thy fingers, 
the moon and the stars, which thou hast ordained ; what 
is man that Thou art mindful of him ? and the son of 
man that Thou visitest him? 
Contemplation, Psalms VlTl. 

11 Ah, once more, " I cried, " ye stars, ye waters, 
On my heart your mighty charm renew ; 
Still, still let me as I gaze upon you, 
Feel my soul becoming vast like you ! " 
" Self -Dependence. " Matthew Arnold. 

Examples of Benevolent Action in Breadths , — 

" These glorious truths shall be diffused throughout the 
whole earth. " 

" The Lord doth build up Jerusalem : He gathereth to- 
gether the outcasts of Israel. He healeth the broken in 
heart, and bindeth up their wounds. " 

LAW OF REACTION. 

Action and reaction are equal. Extreme emotion 
tends to react to its opposite. Elasticity, spring and a 
tendency to rebound ate marks of life. 

Examples of reaction are found in expressions of 
admiration : a painter admiring his work would re- 
act away from it. In anger there is a recoil before 
the blow. In milder emotions action and reaction are equal. 



70 THE ART OF RENDERING 

LAW OF FORM. 

Forms bounded by straight lines are vital in their 
significance. 

Forms bounded by curved lines are mental and re- 
flective. 

This subject will be found treated further under the 
heading—" Significance of Lines, " in " Science of Speech," 
page 42. 

Examples of Vital Action in Straight Lines, — 

" Charge for the golden lilies, upon them with the lance. " 

" Then clasp me round the neck once more, and give 

me one more kiss ; 
And now, my own dear little girl, there is no way but 

this. " 
With that, he lifted high the steel, and smote her in 

the side, 
And in her blood she sank to earth, and with one groan 

she died. 
" The Fate of Virginia. " T. B. Mamulay. 

Mental gestures may trace out all the lines of geom- 
etry, — circles, illustrate shapes, measure, indicate lines. 
The mystic is suggested in the motion of smoke. 
* And my prayer like a perfume from censers 
Ascendeth to God night and day. " 

" And the glory of the Lord abode upon mount Sinai, 
and the cloud covered it six days. . . . And the sight of 
the glory of the Lord was like a devouring fire on the top 
of the mount in the eyes of the children of Israel. " 

" And Aaron shall burn thereon sweet incense every 
morning when he dresseth the lamps. " Exodus, 24, 30. 



LAW OF SEQUENCE 71 

LAW OF OPPOSITION. 

" In opposition of the agents of expression is the 
harmony of gesture. Harmony is born of contrasts. 
From opposition, equilibrium is born in turn. Equi- 
librium is the great law of gesture and condemns par- 
allelism. " In so far as we observe this law may we 
have grace of motion. Opposition is the balance of 
parts around the center of gravity. In gesture the 
chest should be the center of balance. The greater the 
number of agents of expression acting in harmonious 
opposition the higher the form of expression. 

Study poise in ideal figures in paintings and statuary 
observing oppositions of head and hand, — of all parts of 
of the body. 

LAW OF SEQUENCE. 

Impression precedes expression. We must have be- 
fore we can give, and give in the order of having. 
The eye is the central agent of expression. The eye 
leads in expression, next the face, head, hands, then 
the rest of the body, the word last. 

If the expression be vital it is expressed in shorter 
time than if emotive. 

Vital springs into action quickly. 

Mental takes time to consider. 

The emotive is influenced by both mental and 
vital. It is second to the vital in point of time. 

The gestures of the face should make those of the 
arm forgotten. 



72 THE ART OF RENDERING 

NUMBER OF GESTURES. 

Gestures should not be too numerous. We are moved 
by only one sentiment at a time ; it is useless to multi- 
ply gestures. But one gesture is needed for the expres- 
sion of an entire thought. The gesture is not to express 
the 2iord y but the thought. As much expression as is 
possible should be given to the face. 

LAW OF FORCE. 

Weakness takes a strong attitude and strength takes 
a weak attitude. This laiv applies to the mental and 
to the moral life as well as to the physical life. 

RHYTHM. 

Rhythm is the measure of time or motion in regularly 
recurring impulses or accents, as in poetry and music. 
In gesture it is the inflection with the unfolding of 
the parts of the body as the action passes ove> it from 
joint to joint. Rhythm of gesture is subjective and objetive. 

Objective rhythm is expressive of the vital nature. 

Examples of Objective Rhythm may be found in various 
expressions, — it delights in beating time with a sharp ac- 
cent, as in ragtime music. As to gesture, the accent is 
eccentric, outward. The stroke is as in the old calisthenics, 
and as in certain gestures known as "sledge hammer " and 
a pump handle " gestures and gestures often used to 
"pound "the Word > rather than to expound it. Children 
and savages and natures where the vital is in the ascenden- 
cy delight in this outward stroke or Objective Rhythm. 



SUBJECTIVE RHYTHM 73 

Subjective Rhythm is a manifestation of the mental 
and emotive natures. It expresses itself in subtle pul- 
sations from the center with a return to the center. 
Pulsations of motion correspond to pulsations of emotion. 
Subjective Rhythm delights in the artistic — literature ', 
music, heavy and light, making rhythmic inflections. 

Subjective Rhythm may be likened to a person who when 
expressing a thought is mindful of its impression on the 
listener. The thought sent out returns to its source but 
is colored in the mind of the speaker with the impression it 
has made. Objective Rhythm is like the person who speaks 
hit or miss, unmoved as to the impression it makes. One 
thing is sent out, nothing returns. It is like the child 
who delights himself pounding with a stick, even to the dis- 
traction of sensitive nerves, is unmoved and satisfied so long 
as he may give vent to his animal spirits. 

Applied to gesture, Subjective Rhythm starts from the 
center with impulses in turn from each of the bodily agents 
of expression in natural sequence. For example : the bow 
begins with a look from the eye. The start in giving the 
feeling of respect is sent out from the lower chest as a cen- 
ter, passes to the head, the hands, the feet ; then the body 
returns to position with the chest lifting or leading back to 
the erect position. 

DIRECTION OF GESTURE. 

It has been said that man stands on one globe and bears 
another on his shoulders. We may say he lives within a 
globe limited by his reach from the soles of his feet to the 
arm's reach overhead and to the tips of the fingers with 
the arms reaching horizontally. Our gestures are made 
to correspond with this globe in which we live. 



74 THE ART OF RENDERING 

This globe of which we are the center may be divided 
into three general divisions, — the Zone of the Superior, 
the Zone of the Inferior, the Zone of Equality. 

The Zone of the Superior is the region of the Beautiful, 
the Good, the True, Faith, Hope, Love, Heaven, the dwell- 
ing place of God, the Positive Pole. 

The Zone of the Inferior is the region of the Bad, the 
False, the Ugly, the Uncertain, the Occult, the Evil, Fear, 
Unbelief, Hate, the abode of the Evil One, the Negative 
Pole. 

The Zone of Equality is the region of Here, Now, the 
Real, Zone of the Senses, Material Things, Our Fellows on 
our own plane. 

Zone of Superior corresponds to Ascending, — Zone of 
the Inferior to Descending, — Zone of Equality to the 
Horizontal in Law XCIII, page 144 " Science of Speech. " 

FINESSE OF GESTURE. 

Suggestions of a subtle and delicate character often make 
a strong appeal, especially is this true of that which appeals 
to any of the five senses. 

The fingers may indicate different kinds of surface as 
hard like marble, delicate as velvet, the feel of granulated 
or powdered substance, temperature, hot and cold. Each 
of the five senses may play an important part in gesture. 

Touch can suggest heat, cold, hardness, softness, rough- 
ness, smoothness, figure, solidity, motion, extension, agree- 
able, gentle heat, stroke. of a soft body — fur, a zephyr. 

Smell may suggest the odor of flowers, perfumes, etc. 
In offensive odors an effort is made to close the nostrils, 
to hold the nose, to snuff the offensive odor out of the nos- 
trils. The unpleasant odor is rejected, scorned. In the 
impolite " turning up the nose " is an effort to close the nose. 



FINESSE OF GESTURE 75 

Taste has a part to play in expression. Bitter taste af- 
fects the back part of the tongue ; sour affects the front or 
near the middle ; sweet the tip of the tongue ; salt the ex- 
treme tip of the tongue. Figurative language that refers 
to the taste is expressed as tasting of the literal things them- 
selves. We speak of " bitter experiences, " " sour words," 
a sweet child. " We " smack the lips " and the " mouth 
waters, " some things " set the teeth on edge. " We puff 
out of the mouth that which is distasteful. Pooh ! Pshaw ! 

Hearing is an exalted sense. Various sounds in life, in 
nature may be suggested, pleasant and unpleasant. The 
impression of the imaginary sounds demands a response as 
well as what the eye sees. The eye and the ear are the 
leading avenues of impression, and enter largely into all 
gesture. The eye is the central agent of expression. 

BEARINGS, ATTITUDES, INFLECTIONS. 

The bearing is the air, the mien, behavior, deportment, 
the habitual carriage of the body. 

Attitude is an arrest of motion. A gesture held for a 
moment is an attitude. 

Inflections are little gestures, movements of the head 
the brows, the mouth, expressions of the hands, and fingers. 

The public speaker, the singer the musician may awak- 
en his own feelings and cultivate the emotions by throwing 
the body strongly into the attitude necessary to portray the 
desired emotion which is not always ready to respond. 
Repeat over and over. You may overdo in practice and 
work up a background of fervor, then the public perform- 
ance may be with few gestures. Acquire a broad knowledge 
of Laws of Expression and well trained responsive body. 



76 THE ART OF RENDERING 



DUAL FORM OF STUDY OF EXPRESSION. 

Scientific. Artistic. Theory. Practice. 

We may avoid confusion in the study of this many sided 
subject, and bring harmony out of what would otherwise be 
confusion by dividing the whole subject into the Scientific 
and the Artistic. 

By the Scientific we mean a knowledge of the Laws of 
Expression, — Voice, Gesture, Articulation, Analysis etc., 
training of the body through Physical Culture, the Voice 
by means of the Breathing exercises and Vocal Gymnastics. 

By the Artistic side we mean a free, spontaneous, uncon- 
scious use of all this culture of body mind and voice, so 
that without apparent effort the material acquired in the 
Scientific part of the study may be used easily and natu- 
rally, under the direction of the thought and feeling. 

We may illustrate the process by comparing it with the 
construction of a work of architecture. There must be a 
time of planning, — designing, shaping, selecting the great 
variety of material to be used in its construction. Then 
comes a time when this material is fitted to the place it is to 
occupy. After much labor of varied kinds, patient thinking 
and doing, with helps from many sources, part is fitted to 
part and we have a completed whole, yet a work that may 
be made more and more attractive during a lifetime- 

Another illustration of the twofold form of the study, — 
thought and plans for a gown to be worn on some grand oc- 
casion. There must be a time to think about the material 
of which it is to be made, selecting that best suited in tex- 
ture and color to the wearer, the style, the making and a 
number of perplexing things must be thought and done 
in the private side before it is completed. When the time 



SCIENTIFIC AND ARTISTIC 77 

comes for the gown to be worn is quite a different thing. 
If the gown is worn gracefully, it must be forgotten, lest, 
it be even like Dickens Squeers who " appeared ill at ease 
in his clothes. * We must divide our work into two dis- 
tinct parts lest we appear to be fitting the gown while we 
are wearing it and seem self-conscious and affected, a com- 
mon fault. 

There must be one time for getting and another time 
for giving. 

In Rendering or Speaking in Public, aim to reach the 
voice and all the bodily agents of expression wholly through 
the mind and feelings. The body and voice should be so 
trained that the whole being will naturally and agreeably 
respond to thought and feeling. This is a reliable method 
because it is founded on Psychological Laws. To educate 
is to draw out, — when Rendering is so studied as to draw 
out the powers of the mind and soul, natural expression 
will result. First find out how, then do. In doing one 
may become. You can never learn to swim without get- 
ting into the water. Be content with your best. Your 
best to-morrow will be better than your best yesterday be- 
cause you lived yesterday and were content to do your best, 
however poor the best may be, for herein is growth. So 
may you ever be content to say " my best is good enough 
for me. " 

Too much emphasis can hardly be given to the Mental 
Method which has for its foundation principle, — strength 
at the center gives freedom at the surface* 

As so much of value is bound up in the above brief 
principle, lest we miss some of its deeper meaning, let us 
consider just what is meant by the " center. " 

Without using any confusing terms we would say sim- 
ply, — the center is all that lives in the body of mind and 
spirit, in our triangular outline called Mental and Emotive. 



78 THE ART OF RENDERING 

MENTAL TRAINING. 

The mind should be so trained as to comprehend the 
thought and to concentrate upon it as to appropriate it to 
self and make it as an actual experience, a living reality. 
Read thoughts, not words, for * the letter killeth, but the 
spirit maketh alive. " 

TRAINING OF THE FIVE SENSES. 

The five senses should receive special culture, as they 
are but poorly developed in the best of us. 

The sense of touch may be trained, — the pupil blind, 
folded, train the sense of touch to distinguish fifty or more 
different kinds of objects, different kinds of cloth, leaves* 
flowers, etc. 

Taste. The pupil blindfolded, experiment with differ, 
ent objects, with the shape of the article destroyed. One 
test should not follow too quickly after another. 

Smell. The pupil blindfolded, — fifty or more objects, 
many common objects, — oils, perfumes, flowers. 

Hearing. Listen for sounds in nature. Distinguish 
between the different kinds of birds, fowls, animals ; differ- 
ent kinds of musical instruments as organ, violin, flute, etc.; 
various noises made by the wind, various keys of song or 
of instrumental selections. 

Sight. Observe carefully as to size, shape, color, — re- 
call objects as vividly as when before the eyes, then note 
whether or not it is a true image of the object. 

Above are given but hints for training the five senses. 
From them the pupil should be able to devise many tests 
to practice to awaken and quicken the neglected senses. 



CULTURE OF THE SENSES 79 

" Our senses as our reason are divine. " The power of 
the fine arts over the human sensibilities can never be esti- 
mated. The manifestations through the senses make a 
deep appeal, and in an artistic sense. Pleasant odors min- 
ister to social luxury and refinement They arouse religious 
feelings and devotion and serve as tributes of affection . 

" I thought of the dress she wore last time, 

When we stood 'neath the cypress-trees together, 

In that lost land, in that soft clime, 
In the crimson evening weather. 

Of that muslin dress ( for the eve was hot ), 
And her warm white neck in its golden chain, 

And her full, soft hair, just tied in a knot, 
And falling loose again ; 

And the jasmine flower in her fair young breast ; 

( Oh the faint, sweet smell of that jasmine flower ! ) 
And the one bird singing alone in his nest ; 

And the one star over the tower. " 

" Bring flowers, flowers for the joyous, 
And flowers for the sad, 
Flowers for the bridal wreath 

And flowers for the early dead. '■ 

The office of taste is utility, so real taste comes only af- 
ter hunger is satisfied. The ends sought by appeal to this 
sense are individual gratification, social culture, and reli- 
gious refinement. 

By touch we perceive heat, cold, hard, soft, roughness, 
smoothness, figure, solidity, motion and extension. 

Sight and hearing are too large and important subjects 
to consider here. Touch, taste and smell are subjects over- 
looked in the study of expression. 



80 THE ART OF RENDERING 

TRAINING THE EMOTIVE. 

Shakespeare tells us that " it is the mind that makes the 
body rich. " While this is true, our greatest wealth lies 
deeper than the mind. It is more precious than the mind. 

Let us, because of the lack of any all-inclusive term, call 
this the Emotive Nature. In a multitude of bewildering 
ideas, without regard to creed or sect, let us meet upon a 
common ground and call that which wills and feels by a 
name in order to simplify our study all possible. Let us 
think of this emotive nature as something just as we think 
of the brain as something — only this nature is more plas- 
tic and impressionable. Think of this pulsating being 
within our bodies impressed and moved by all that is taking 
place around us, subject to fear, hate, love and hundreds 
of emotions. We find some of these emotions are help- 
ful, others are injurious. We have it within our power to 
choose, to a certain extent, which of these two shall domi- 
nate us, even as we may select studies to train the mind. 

The greatest feelings — the most powerful and the far- 
thest reaching are love and hate. We find many feelings 
are subordinate to or modifications of these two leading feel- 
ings. Love is life. It quickens the circulation and places 
the whole being : physical, mental and emotive in the most 
favorable condition, like a healthy plant growing in the 
sunlight. Hate is death — it not only retards the circu- 
lation, but throws poison into the blood, stunts and deforms, 
chills the very sap of life ; a poisonous weed growing rank, 
in the dark. 

Let us consider the effect of these two leading feelings 
on expression. Love and its modifications known as mag- 
nanimity, sympathy, reverence, respect and appreciation and 
kindred emotions cause a relaxation of the muscles, ease 
and grace of movement, beautiful tones in the voice, all that 
is delightful and fascinating, more effective and charming 



CULTURE OF THE EMOTIVE 81 

than anything money can buy or study can attain. But 
hate tensions the muscles, makes the movements abrupt 
and angular, imparts harsh and disagreeable tones and ug- 
ly inflections. The whole expression is so repellent that 
the much coveted graces of expression are utterly out of 
reach. Some of us may be unwilling to believe that this 
negative element colors and clouds our emotive nature but 
as we value our success, let us take some fair and honest 
test examinations of ourselves. Though we may not be 
afflicted with the most hideous form of this malady yet 
some germs or mild forms of it may exist and prevent the 
true, normal action of the emotive even as the mental is 
notable to calculate correctly with the multiplication table 
incorrectly learned. " Orient thyself, " that your shadow 
may not fall before you. 

How we feel — the condition of the affectional nature 
is of greater importance than what we eat or what we 
think, though the three are intimately related. How 
we feel modifies the whole being. 

The highest and most desirable condition for any per- 
son where he may receive the best and be the best is 
when he places himself in the most perfect submission 
to the Infinite. There is self-aggrandizement in obedience 
to the greatest commandment, — " Thou shalt love the 
Lord thy God with all thy soul, with all thy mind and 
with all thy strength, and thy neighbor as thyself. " 
When we do even a little of this we may lay up treasures 
on earth in our own body, mind and spirit and " treasures 
in heaven " as well. When we have mastered this central 
lesson, we are ready to respond in body, mind and spirit. 

" From abundance of life comes sweetness. " The most 
abundant life in the Physical comes by the breath and red 
blood ; the Mental, concentration of thought; the Emotive 
or spiritual, obedience to the Infinite, 



STUDIES FOR PRACTICE 



FIRST STEP IN RENDERING. 
ANIMATION. 

As we enter upon this first step in Rendering we begin 
to climb stairs. Such should be our whole life's activity 
physically, mentally \ morally, spiritually. We must start 
climbing from the bottom of the stairs, in nature's own 
appointed way as at the base of our triangle, with physical, 
vital life. Animation may be defined as physical life, 
red blood, energy, spring, bound, hearty. No amount of 
study can atone for a lack of soul fervor and natural, 
living spontaneity. You may overdo in animation : 
swing the pendulum too far and it will return to its 
center of gravity. Feel a necessity for utterance of deep, 
intense thought. Do not think how HE would say it 
but think IT intensely and YOU will say it. Use bold 
outlines. Do bold sketching. Do not be bound in. 

Aim to awaken and animate the three sides of the 
being, — Physical, Mental ', Emotive. 

Physical animation comes from dynamic breathing 
and red blood. 

Mental animation comes ftom imagination and con- 
centration of thought. 

Emotive animation comes from obedience. 



ANIMATION 83 

It is a well-known fact that many who have never giv- 
en any study to Elocution or Oratory have sometimes tak- 
en the laurels from students who have given most careful 
study to these subjects. On this account it would seem to 
those who fail to look deep enough that only those who 
have natural talent may hope to succeed. In reality, this 
natural ability that wins such favor in the market place is 
largely from a free, fearless, spontaneous expression from 
a soul alive and animated, responding directly and simply 
to that which impresses it. On the other hand the student 
of Expression may be so burdened with rules he has hardly 
mastered and a vain attempt to put them into practice 
that the avenues of expression are overloaded with no room 
for the matter to be rendered, so we have artificial, unnat- 
ural expression as a result. As Animation clothes the am- 
ateur performer in garments of praise it can do even more 
for the student of Expression who works long enough on 
this first step in rendering — Animation. 

The starting point in the study of a selection should be 
made with a pencil. Make a careful analysis, finding the 
unity as directed in a previous chapter. After a careful 
analysis has been made strike out free from all restraint. 
Dare to speak up and speak out. Be true to your own con- 
victions and interpretations. Render it heartily and as if 
it is the most important thing in the world. 

Much freedom may be gained by impersonating some 
vital character where one need not be particular save to give 
it with animation. Acting a part in a simple school play 
has loosened the fetters on many a tongue. 

A child learning to walk must be content to use the abil- 
ity he already has. Should he observe his elders moving 
with ease and refuse to go only in the same way, he would 
limit himself for life, but he moves any way, impelled from 
the life within and so grows. Study the following selections. 



84 THE ART OF RENDERING 



THE CHEERFUL LOCKSMITH. 

From the workshop of the Golden Key there issued 
forth a tinkling sound, so merry and good-humored that it 
suggested the idea of some one working blithely, and made 
quite pleasant music. Tink, tink, tink — clear as a silver 
bell, and audible at every pause of the street's harsher 
noises, as though it said, « I don't care ; nothing puts me 
out ; I am resolved to be happy. " 

Women scolded, children squalled, heavy carts went 
rumbling by, horrible cries proceeded from the lungs of 
hawkers ; still it struck in again, no higher, no lower, no 
louder, no softer ; not thrusting itself on the people's no- 
tice a bit the more for having been outdone by louder 
sounds, — tink, tink, tink, tink, tink. 

It was a perfect embodiment of the still, small voice, 
free from all cold, hoarseness, huskiness, or unhealthiness 
of any kind. Foot-passengers slackened their pace, and 
were disposed to linger near it ; neighbors who had got 
up splenetic that morning felt good-humor stealing on them 
as they heard it, and by degrees became quite sprightly ; 
mothers danced their babies to its ringing ; — still the same 
magical tink, tink, tink, came gayly from the workshop 
of the Golden Key. 

Who but the locksmith could have made such music ? 
A gleam of sun shining through the unsashed window and 
checkering the dark workshop with a broad patch of light 
fell full upon him, as though attracted by his sunny heart. 
There he stood working at his anvil, his face radiant with 
exercise and gladness, his sleeves turned up, his wig pushed 
off his shining forehead — the easiest, freest, happiest man 
in all the worlds 

Beside him sat a sleek cat, purring and winking in the 
light, and falling every now and then into an idle doze, as 



THE CHEERFUL LOCKSMITH 85 

from excess of comfort. The very locks that hung: around 
had something jovial in their rust, and seemed like gouty 
gentlemen of hearty natures, disposed to joke on their in- 
firmities. 

There was nothing surly or severe in the whole scene. 
It seemed impossible that any of the innumerable keys 
could fit a churlish strong-box, or a prison-door. Store- 
houses of good things, rooms where there were fires, books 
gossip, and cheering laughter — these were their proper 
sphere of action. Places of distrust, and cruelty and re- 
straint, they would have quadruple-locked forever. 

Tink, tink, tink. No man who hammered on at a dull 
monotonous duty could have brought such cheerful notes 
from steel and iron ; none but a chirping, healthy, honest- 
hearted fellow, who made the best of everything and felt 
kindly towards everybody, could have done it for an in- 
stant. He might have been a coppersmith and still been 
musical. If he had sat in a jolting wagon, full of rods of 
iron, it seemed as if he would have brought some har- 
mony out of it. 

Charles Dickens. 



NEBUCHADNEZZAR'S DREAM. 

In the second year of the reign of Nebuchadnezzar, Neb- 
uchadnezzar dreamed dreams, wherewith his spirit was trou- 
bled, and his sleep brake from him. Then the king com- 
manded to call the magicians, and the astrologers and the 
sorcerers, and the Chaldeans, for to show the king his 
dreams. So they came and stood before the king. And 
the king said unto them, " I have dreamed a dream, and 
my spirit was troubled to know the dream- " Then spake 
the Chaldeans to the king in Syriack, " O king, live for- 
ever ! tell thy servants the dream, and we will shew the 



S6 THE ART OF RENDERING 

interpretation. " The king answered and said to the Chal- 
deans, " The thing is gone from me : if ye will not make 
known unto me the dream, with the interpretation there- 
of, ye shall be cut in pieces, and your houses shall be made 
a dunghill. But if ye show the dream, and the interpreta- 
tion thereof, ye shall receive of me gifts and rewards and 
great honor : therefore show me the dream, and the inter- 
pretation thereof. " 

They answered again and said, "Let the king tell his serv- 
ants the dream, and we will show the interpretation of it. " 

The king answered and said, " I know of a certainty 
that ye would gain the time, because ye see the thing is gone 
from me. But if ye will not make known unto me the 
dream, there is but one decree for you : for ye have prepared 
lying and corrupt words to speak before me, till the time 
be changed : therefore tell me the dream, and I shall know 
that ye can show me the interpretation thereof. " 

The Chaldeans answered before the king and said," There 
is not a man upon the earth that can show the king's matter : 
therefore there is no king, lord, nor ruler, that asked such 
things at any magician, or astrologer, or Chaldean. And 
it is a rare thing that the king requireth, and there is none 
other that can show it before the king, except the gods, 
whose dwelling is not with flesh. " 

For this cause the king was angry and very furious, and 
commanded to destroy all the wise men of Babylon. And 
the decree went forth that the wise men should be slain ; 
and they sought Daniel and his fellows to be slain. 
Then Daniel answered with counsel and wisdom to Arioch 
the captain of the king's guard, which was gone forth to 
slay the wise men of Babylon : he answered and said to 
Arioch the king's captain, " Why is the decree so hasty 
from the king ? " Then Arioch made the thing known 
to Daniel. Then Daniel went in, and desired of the king 



NEBUCHADNEZZAR'S DREAM 87 

that he would give him time, and that he would show the 
king the interpretation. 

Then Daniel went to his house, and made the thing 
known to Hananiah, Mishael, and Azariah, his companions; 
that they would desire mercies of the God of heaven con. 
cerning this secret ; that Daniel and his fellows should 
not perish with the rest of the wise men of Babylon. 

Then was the secret revealed unto Daniel in a night vi- 
sion. Then Daniel blessed the God of heaven. Daniel 
answered and said, " Blessed be the name of God forever 
and ever; for wisdom and might are his; and he changeth 
the times and seasons ; he removeth kings, and setteth up 
kings ; he giveth wisdom unto the wise, and knowledge to 
them that know understanding ; he revealeth the deep and 
secret things ; he knoweth what is in the darkness, and the 
light dwelleth with him. I thank thee, and praise thee, O 
thou God of my fathers, who hast given me wisdom and 
might, and hast made known unto me now what we de- 
sired of thee; for thou hast now made known unto us the 
king's matter. 

Therefore Daniel went in unto Arioch, whom the king 
had ordained to destroy the wise men of Babylon : he went 
and said thus unto him. "Destroy not the wise men of 
Babylon; bring me in before the king, and I will show unto 
the king the interpretation. " 

Then Arioch brought in Daniel before the king in haste 
and said thus unto him, " I have found a man of the cap- 
tives of Judah, that will make known unto the king the 
interpretation. " 

The king answered and said to Daniel, whose name was 
Belteshazzar, " Art thou able to make known unto me the 
dream which I have seen, and the interpretation thereof ? '» 

Daniel answered in the presence of the king, and said 

"The secret which the king hath demanded cannot the 



88 THE ART OF RENDERING 

wise men, the astrologers, the magicians, the soothsayers, 
show unto the king ; but there is a God in heaven that re- 
vealeth secrets, and maketh known to the king Nebuchad- 
nezzar what shall be in the latter days. Thy dream 
and the visions of thy head upon thy bed, are these ; — As 
for thee, O king, thy thoughts came into thy mind upon 
thy bed, what should come to pass hereafter : and he that 
revealeth secrets maketh known to thee what shall come to 
pass. But as for me, this secret is not revealed to me for a- 
ny wisdom that I have more than any living, but for their 
sakes that shall make known the interpretation to the king 
and that thou mightest know the thoughts of thy heart. 

Thou, O king, sawest, and behold a great image. 
This great image whose brightness was excellent, stood 
before thee ; and the form thereof was terrible. 

This image's head was of fine gold, his breast and his 
arms of silver, his belly and his thighs of brass, his legs 
of iron, his feet part of iron and part of clay. 

Thou sawest till that a stone was cut out without hands 
which smote the image upon his feet that were of iron and 
of clay, and brake them to pieces. Then was the iron, the 
clay, the brass, the silver, the gold, broken to pieces togeth- 
er, and became like the chaff of the summer threshing floors; 
and the wind carried them away, that no place was found 
for them ; and the stone that smote the image became a great 
mountain and filled the whole earth. This is the dream ; 
and we will tell the interpretation thereof before the king. 

Thou, O king, art a king of kings; for the God of heav- 
en hath given thee a kingdom, power, and strength, and 
glory. And wheresoever the children of men dwell, the 
beasts of the field and the fowls of the heaven hath he giv- 
en into thine hand, and hath made thee ruler over them 
all. Thou art this head of gold. And after thee shall 
arise another kingdom inferior to thee ; and another third 



NEBUCHADNEZZAR'S DREAM 89 

kingdom of brass, which shall bear rule over all the earth. 
And the fourth kingdom shall be as strong as iron : foras- 
much as iron breaketh in pieces and subdueth all things : 
and as iron that breaketh all these, shall it break in pieces 
and bruise. And whereas thou sawest the feet and toes, 
part of potters' clay, and part of iron, the kingdom shall be 
divided ; but there shall be in it of the strength of the iron ? 
forasmuch as thou sawest the iron mixed with miry clay. 
And as the toes of the feet were part of iron, and part of 
clay, so the kingdom shall be partly strong, and partly bro- 
ken. And whereas thou sawest iron mixed with miry clay, 
they shall mingle themselves with the seed of men : but 
they shall not cleave one to another, even as iron is not 
mixed with clay. 

And in the days of these kings shall the God of heaven 
set up a kingdom, which shall never be destroyed : and 
the kingdom shall not be left to other people, but it shall 
break in pieces and consume all these kingdoms, and it 
shall stand forever. 

Forasmuch as thou sawest that the stone was cut out of 
the mountain without hands, and that it brake in pieces 
the iron, the brass, the clay, the silver, and the gold ; the 
great God hath made known to the king what shall come 
to pass hereafter : and the dream is certain, and the inter- 
pretation thereof sure. " 

Then the king Nebuchadnezzar fell upon his face, and wor- 
shipped Daniel, and commanded that they should offer an 
oblation and sweet odors unto him. The king answered 
unto Daniel and said, " Of a truth it is, that your God is 
a God of gods, and a Lord of kings, and a revealer of 
secrets, seeing thou couldest reveal this secret. " Then 
the king made Daniel a great man, and gave him many 
great gifts, and made him ruler over the whole province of 
Babylon. Daniel 11. 



90 THE ART OF RENDERING 



A RILL FROM THE TOWN-PUMP. 

I hold high office in the town, being guardian of the 
best treasure it has ; and I exhibit, moreover, an admirable 
example to the other officials, by the cool and downright 
discharge of my business, and the constancy with which 
I stand to my post. Summer or winter, nobody seeks me 
in vain ; for all day long I am seen at the busiest corner, 
just above the market, stretching out my arms to rich and 
poor. 

At this sultry noontide, I am cupbearer to the parched 
populace, for whose benefit an iron goblet is chained to my 
waist. To all and sundry I cry aloud, at the very top of 
my voice : " Here it is, gentlemen ! here is the good liquor ! 
here is the unadulterated ale of Father Adam ! better than 
brandy, wine or beer; here it is, and not a cent to pay. 
Walk up, walk up gentlemen, and help yourselves ! " 

It were a pity if all this outcry should draw no customers. 
Here they come. " A hot day, gentlemen ! Quaff and 
away again, so as to keep yourselves in a nice cool sweat. 
You, my friend ! will need another cupful to wash the dust 
out of your throat, if it be as thick there as it is on your 
cowhide shoes. I see that you have trudged half a score of 
miles to-day, and, like a wise man have passed by the tav- 
erns and stopped at the running brooks and bubbling springs. 
Drink, and make room for that other fellow who seeks my 
aid to quench the fever of last night's potations, which he 
drained from no cup of mine. 

Welcome, most rubicund sir ! You and I have been 
great strangers hitherto ! But mercy on you, man ! The 
water absolutely hisses down your red-hot gullet. Fill a- 
gain, and tell me, on the word of an honest toper, did you 
ever, in tavern or dramshop, spend the price of your chil- 
dren's food for a swig half so delicious ! 



A RILL FROM THE TOWN-PUMP 91 

Who next ? O my little friend ! you are just let loose 
from school, and are come here to scrub your blooming face, 
and drown the memory of certain taps of the rod, by a 
draught from the Town -Pump. Take it, pure as the cur- 
rent of your young life ; take it, and may your heart and 
tongue never be scorched with a fiercer thirst than now. 

There, my dear child, put down the cup, and yield your 
place to this elderly gentleman who treads so gingerly over 
the paving-stones. What ! he limps by, without so much 
as thanking me, as if my hospitable offices were meant only 
for people who have no wine-cellars. 

Well, well, sir ! no harm done, I hope? Go ! draw the 
cork, tip the decanter ; but when your great toe shall set you 
a roaring, it will be no affair of mine. 

This thirsty dog with his red tongue lolling out, does not 
scorn my hospitality, but stands on his hind legs, and laps 
eagerly out of the trough. See how lightly he capers away 
again ! Jowler ! did your worship ever have the gout ? " 

Nathaniel Hawthorne. 



LAW. 

Law is law — law is law ; and as in such and so forth 
and hereby, and aforesaid, provided always, nevertheless, 
notwithstanding. Law is like a country dance, people are 
led up and down in it till they are tired. Law is like a 
book of surgery, there are a great many desperate cases in 
it. It is also like medicine, they that take least of it are 
best off. Law is like a homely gentlewoman, very well to 
follow. Law is also like a scolding wife, very bad when 
it follows us. Law is like a new fashion, people are be- 
witched to get into it : it is also like bad weather, most peo- 
ple are glad when they get out of it. 



92 THE ART OF RENDERING 

We shall now mention a cause, called *' Bullura versus 
Boatum : " it was a cause that came before me. The cause 
was as follows. 

There were two farmers : farmer A. and farmer B. 
Farmer A. was seized or possessed of a bull : farmer B. 
was seized or possessed of a ferry-boat Now, the owner of 
the ferry-boat, having made his boat fast to a post on the 
shore, with a piece of hay, twisted rope-fashion, or, as we 
say, vulgo vocaio, a hay-band. After he had made his boat 
fast to a post on shore ; as it was very natural for a hungry 
man to do, he went up town to dinner : farmer A.'s bull, as 
it was very natural for a hungry bull to do, came down 
town to look for a dinner ; and, observing, discovering, see. 
ing, and spying out some turnips in the bottom of the 
ferry-boat, the bull scrambled into the ferry-boat J he ate 
up the turnips, and, to make an end of his meal, fell to work 
upon the hay-band : the boat being eaten from its moorings, 
floated down the river, with the bull in it : it struck a- 
gainst a rock ; beat a hole in the bottom of the boat, and 
tossed the bull overboard ; whereupon the owner of the bull 
brought his action against the boat, for running away with 
the bull, the owner of the boat brought his action against 
the bull, for running away with the boat. And thus notice 
of trial was given, Bullum versus Boatum, Boatum versus 
Bullum. . 

Now the counsel for the bull began with saying : " My 
lord, and you gentlemen of the jury, we are counsel in this 
cause for the bull. We are indicted for running away 
with the boat. Now my lord, we have heard of running 
horses, but never of running bulls, before. Now, my lord 
the bull could no more run away with the beat, than a 
man in a coach can be said to run away with the horses ; 
therefore, my lord, how can we punish that which is not 
punishable ? How can we eat what is not eatable ? Or, 



LAW 93 

as the law says, how can we think on that which is not 
thinkable? Therefore, my lord, as we are counsel in this 
cause for the bull ; if the jury should bring the bull in 
guilty, the jury would be guilty of a bull. " 

The counsel for the boat observed, that the bull should 
be nonsuited ; because, in his declaration, he had not spec, 
ified what color he was of ; for thus wisely, and thus learn- 
edly, spoke the counsel ! — " My lord, if the bull was of no 
color, he must be of some color ; and, if he was not of any 
color, what color could the bull be of ? " I overruled this 
motion myself, by observing, the bull was a white bull, and 
that white is no color besides the law can color anything. 

This cause being left afterwards to a reference, up- 
on the award, both bull and boat were acquitted ; it being 
proved, that the tide of the river carried them both away : 
upon which I gave it as my opinion, that, as the tide of 
the river carried both bull and Doat away, both bull and 
boat had a good action against the water-bailiff. 

My opinion being taken, an action was issued ; and upon 
the traverse, this point of law arose — How, wherefore and 
whether, why, when, and what, whatsoever, whereas, and 
whereby, as the boat was not a compos-mentis evidence, how 
could an oath be administered ? That point was soon set- 
tled, by Boatum's attorney declaring, that, for his client, 
he would swear any thing. 

The water-bailiff's charter was then read, taken out of 
the original record, in true law Latin, which set forth, in 
their declaration, that they were carried away either by the 
tide of flood or the tide of ebb. The charter of the water- 
bailiff was as follows — Aquce bailiffi est magistratus 
in choisi super omnibus jiskibus qui habuerunt finnos 
et scalos, claws, shells, et talos, qui swimmare in fresh- 
ibus, vel saltibus riveris, lakis , pondis , canalibus, et well 
boats ; sive oysteri y prawni, shrimpi, turbutus solus : 



94 THE ART OF RENDERING 

that is, not turbots alone, but turbots and soles both together. 
But now comes the nicety of the law ; the law is as nice as 
a new-laid egg, and not to be understood by addle- headed 
people. Bullum and Boatum mentioned both ebb and 
flood, to avoid quibbling ; but it being proved, that they 
were carried away neither by the tide of flood, nor by the 
tide of ebb, but exactly upon the top of high water, they 
were nonsuited ; but such was the lenity of the court, upon 
their paying all costs, they were allowed to begin again, de 
novo* 

Stevens. 



APPLEDORE. 



How looks Appledore in a storm ? 
I have seen it when its crags seemed frantic, 
Butting against the maddened Atlantic, 

When surge after surge would leap enorme 
Cliffs of Emerald topped with snow, 
That lifted and lifted and then let go 

A great white avalanche of thunder, 
A grinding, blinding, deafening ire 

Monadnock might have trembled under ; 
And the island, whose rock-roots pierce below 
To where they are warmed with the central fire, 

You could feel its granite fibres racked, 

As it seemed to plunge with a shudder and thrill 
Right at the breast of the swooping hill, 

And to rise again, snorting a cataract 

Of rage-froth from every cranny and ledge, 

While the sea drew its breath in hoarse and deep, 

And the next vast breaker curled its edge, 
Gathering itself for a mighty leap. 



APPLEDORE 95 

North, east, and south there are reefs and breakers, 

You would never dream of in smooth weather, 
That toss and gore the sea for acres, 

Bellowing and gnashing and snarling together ; 
Look northward, where Duck Island lies, 
And over its crown you will see arise, 
Against a background of slaty skies, 

A row of pillars still and white 

That glimmer and then are out of sight, 
As if the moon should suddenly kiss, 

While you crossed the gusty desert by night, 
The long colonnades of Persepolis, 
And then as sudden a darkness should follow 
To gulp the whole scene at a single swallow, 
The city's ghost, the drear, brown waste, 
And the string of camels, clumsy-paced : — 
Look southward for White Island light, 

The lantern stands ninety feet o'er the tide ; 
There is first a half-mile of tumult and fight, 
Of dash and roar and tumble and fright, 

And surging bewilderment wild and wide, 
Where the breakers struggle left and right, 

Then a mile or more of rushing sea, 
And then the light-house slim and lone ; 
And whenever the whole weight of ocean is thrown 
Full and fair on White Island head, 

A great mist-jotun you will see 

Lifting himself up silently 
High and huge o'er the light-house top, 
With hands of wavering spray outspread, 

Groping after the little tower, 

That seems to shrink, and shorten and cower, 
Till the monster's arms of a sudden drop, 
And silently and fruitlessly he sinks again into the sea. 



96 THE ART OF RENDERING 

You, meanwhile, where drenched you stand, 
Awaken once more to the rush and roar 

And on the rock-point tighten your hand, 

As you turn and see a valley deep, 
That was not there a moment before, 

Suck rattling down between you and a heap 
Of toppling billow, whose instant fall 
Must sink the whole island once for all — 

Or watch the silenter, stealthier seas 
Feeling their way to you more and more; 

If they once should clutch you high as the knees 

They would whirl you down like a sprig of kelp, 

Beyond all reach of hope or help ; — 
And such in a storm is Appledore. 

James Russell Lowell. 



Gratiano, — Let me play the Fool : 

With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come ; 
Why should a man, whose blood is warm within, 
Sit like his grandsire cut in alabaster ? 
Sleep when he wakes ? and creep into the jaundice 
By being peevish ? I tell thee what, A ntonio, 
I love thee, and it is my love that speaks; 
There are a sort of men, whose visages 
Do cream and mantle like a standing pond ; 
And do a willful stillness entertain, 
With purpose to be dress 'd in an opinion 
Of wisdom, gravity, profound conceit ; 
As who shall say, 1 am Sir Oracle, 
And when I ope my lips let no dog bark ' 
I'll tell thee more of this another time ; 
But fish not with this melancholy bait. 

" Merchant of Venice. " Shakespeare. 



CONVERSATIONAL STYLE 97 

THE SECOND STEP IN RENDERING. 
CONVERSATIONAL STYLE. 

Conversation is a talking with ; familiar intercourse ; 
intimate association ; colloquial discourse ; informal 
dialogue. Conversation implies not only one or more 
listeners but the speaker himself must be a listener. In 
song we " sing to " ; in Oratory we " speak to " the 
listeners* In the Dramatic style the speaker talks " for " 
the listener. In Conversation the speaker " talks with. " 
In the Conversational style we must not only express 
our own thoughts but ever be mindful of the listener and 
aim to bring him out. In reading this style suggest the 
comments from the listenet wherever an opportunity pre- 
sents itself. 

Elements belonging particularly to the conversational 

style:— 

I. Directness. 

II. Pauses varied in length. 

III. Weight of words, light and heavy. 

IV. Speaker shows how he feels about it. 

V. Suggest a response from the listener. 

VI. Conversation includes good listening. 

The Conversational style is the simplest and the most 
common. Much of our literature comes under this class. 
Talk of all kinds is largely conversational, yet this style is 
not always the easiest to render. Because of its simplicity, 
it is too often rendered in an affected, stiff, artificial, un- 
natural manner. Let us profit by attention to the following. 



98 THE ART OF RENDERING 

An important and effective element in the conversational 
style is Directness of utterance. This action of the speak, 
er's mind toward his listener keeps the listener alert and 
wide awake, and following closely that he may be ready to 
reply. Thought given out in a diffuse, general way leaves 
the listener passive, while directness makes him active. 
Even an animal knows when spoken to directly, by what- 
ever name it may be called. When the mental action is 
direct the response rebounds like a ball. 

A common fault in rendering the Conversational style 
a fault that often defeats and stamps as unnatural and with- 
out the true ring that which has points of excellence, is a 
continuous flow of words and a uniform length of pauses. 

It would really seem that the antique rule for pauses — 
to count ten and let the voice fall — is being observed to 
the letter. In conversation the stream of words does not 
flow evenly, but in pulses, regulated by the depth and in- 
tensity of the thought. Observing what the listener thinks 
about it and considering what to reply will vary the length 
of pauses. There can be no more tiresome monotony than 
pauses of the same length. 

Another peculiarity of the Conversational style is a 
tendency to pass lightly over groups of words, barely touch- 
ing some, yet giving as much weight to some one word ae 
is given to a whole phrase. Illustrated in the following. 

" Hast thou named all the birds without a gun ? 

Loved the wild rose, and left it on its stalk ? 

At rich men's tables eaten bread and pulse ? 

Unarmed, faced danger with a heart of trust ? 

And loved so well a high behavior, 

In man or maid, that thou from speech refrained. 

Nobility more nobly to repay ? 

Oh, be my friend, and teach me to be thine. n 



CONVERSATIONAL STYLE 99 

a Well, " said the judge, " I won't detain you any longer. 
The case is dismissed. " 

The family group had reached the door, the court and 
audience were laughing and talking within when Granny 
suddenly turned back, and rattling on the door to attract 
attention, said : " Ax yo' pardon, Jedge, but who won de 
case, please, Sir ? M 

In all the world of borrowed things I don't believe 
anything can be so completely lost, however, as a borrowed 
book. Now, if I should drop a book overboard far out at 
sea ; or if I should let it fall into the crater of Vesuvius, or 
if some sudden tornado should come along and blow it off 
the earth before my astonished eyes, I am not sure that I 
would be in too great haste to replace it, I think I would 
wait, in the faint hope that maybe, some how or other, 
some way or other, some time or other, it might come back 
from the realms of space ; it might return from the drift- 
ing smoke, the sea might yield it up. But when a man 
comes along and borrows a book, then I go down town and 
buy another copy for myself, if I want to read it again. 
That book is gone. Isn't it? ( Cries of " Yes ! Yes ! " 
and " That's so ! " ) " 
" Chimes From A Jester's Bells. " Robert J. Burdette. 

Perhaps the greatest fault in rendering the Conversation- 
al style, making it unnatural, is the tendency to give only 
words, words, words in a colorless manner. But in animated 
conversation, it will be observed, the speaker shows how he 
feels about it. He is giving away himself in all he says, if 
he merely mentions a person's name, the careful listener 
can detect what he thinks — much or little, well or other- 
wise. The words themselves carry comparatively little 
significance — the running comment of feeling adds life 



100 THE ART OF RENDERING 

and naturalness. Without this comment of feeling or 
self-expression the choicest selection will be stupid and un- 
interesting. The more of personal responsiveness — pro- 
vided the personality is noble and worthy — the truer and, 
richer will be the expression. Get the thought and let the 
whole being respond to it. As responsiveness is one of the 
highest aims to be attained in the study of expression the 
student need not be discouraged if all skill is not attained 
at the start. Honest effort will bring success. 

It is found there is a wide difference in the ability of 
pupils to render successfully this simplest of all styles. To 
some it comes easily as conversation itself, but most pupils 
are not so fortunate. However difficult or easy this style 
may be to render successfully there is no doubt about it 
being the most effective style. The Great Teacher used 
it and we are told, " never man spake as He spake. " 
We find his sermons, parables and illustrations afford the 
most excellent studies for this step. In such studies we 
should take into account the dramatic situation, — as to the 
scene, the characters and the theme and its aim and motive. 

Mark Anthony's Oration in Shakespeare's " Julius Caesar" 
though called an Oration is Conversational for he wins his 
point through responses from his listeners. Note how skill- 
fully he draws out from his auditors their opinions, lead- 
ing them most cautiously only as they are ready to go from 
one point to another till he has completely captivated their 
hearts and minds, and uses them at his will to work his 
purpose. For some time he is unable to gain a single re- 
sponse from them, without which his efforts would have 
been fruitless. " My heart is in the coffin there with 
Csesar, and I must pause till it come back to me. " 
While he pauses he listens to their comments, which give 
him a starting point. He soon wins responses directly from 
them, he agrees with them, after this he wins them all 



CONVERSATIONAL STYLE 101 

over on his side and before they are aware they agree with 
him. Practice the Mark Anthony Oration in the conver- 
sational style. 

A good speaker must also be a good listener. We find 
in conversation some draw us out while others freeze us up. 
On account of this we may gain freedom and ease of ex- 
pression by reading to the most sympathetic listeners, those 
who bring out of us our best. Head stories to children in 
a way to suggest you are talking with them. Adapt your 
expression to their comprehension. Respond to their real 
or imaginary questions and comments. Should there be 
greater freedom reading to some friend, practice the read- 
ings with the friend to bring out the thought of the matter 
as if it is original. It is desirable to be able to respond 
easily and naturally as this forms a foundation for all other 
forms of expression. When we gain ease in the presence 
of one or more we may gradually widen our circle. 

This style may be practiced sitting as if in conversation, 
then give the reading standing with the same ease as when 
sitting. 

THE BACHELOR'S DREAM. 

My pipe is lit, my grog is mixed, 

My curtains drawn, and all is snug ; 
Old Puss is in her elbow-chair, 

And Tray is sitting on the rug. 
Last night I had a curious dream, 

Miss Susan Bates was Mistress Mogg — 
What d'ye think of that, my Cat ? 

What d'ye think of that, my Dog? 

She looked so fair, she sang so well. 
I could but woo and she was won ; 



102 THE ART OF RENDERING 

Myself in blue, the bride in white, 

The ring was placed, the deed was done! 

Away we went in chaise and four, 

As fast as grinning boys could flog — 

What d'ye think of that my Cat ? 

What d'ye think of that my Dog? 

What loving tete-a-tetes to come ! 

But tete-a-tetes must still defer ; 
When Susan came to live with me, 

Her mother came to live with her ! 
With Sister Bell she could n't part, 

But all my ties had leave to jog — 
What d'ye think of that, my Cat? 

What d'ye think of that, my Dog ? 

The mother brought a pretty Poll, 

A monkey, too — what work he made ! 
The sister introduced a beau ; 

My Susan brought a favorite maid. 
She had a tabby of her own, 

A snappish mongrel christened Gog — 
What d'ye think of that, my Cat ? 

What d'ye think of that, my Dog ? 

The monkey bit, the parrot screamed, 

All day the sister strummed and sung ; 
The petted maid was such a scold, 

My Susan learned to use her tongue ; 
Her mother had such wretched health, 

She sat and croaked like any frog — 
What d'ye think of that, my Cat? 

What d'ye think of that, my Dog ? 

No longer deary, duck and love, 

I soon come down to simple " M ! " 



THE BACHELOR'S DREAM 303 

The very servants crossed my wish. 

My Susan let me down to them. 
The poker hardly seemed my own, 

I might as well have been a log — 
What d'ye think of that, my Cat ? 

What d'ye think of that, my Dog ? 

My clothes they were the queerest shape, 

Such coats and hats she never met ! 
My ways they were the oddest ways ! 

My friends were such a vulgar set ! 
Poor Tompkinson was snubbed and huffed, 

She could not bear that Mr. Blogg — 
What d'ye think of that, my Cat? 

What d'ye think of that, my Dog ? 

At times we had a spar, and then 

Mamma must mingle in the song, 
The sister took a sister's part, 

The maid declared her master wrong, 
The parrot learned to call me " Fool ! w 

My life was like a London fog — 
What d'ye think of that, my Cat? 

What d'ye think of that, my Dog ? 

My Susan's taste was superfine, 

As proved by bills that had no end ; 
I never had a decent coat, 

/ never had a coin to spend ! 
She forced me to resign my club, 

Lay down my pipe, retrench my grog — 
What d'ye think of that, my Cat? 

What d'ye think of that my Dog ? 

Each Sunday night we gave a rout 
To fops and flirts a pretty list ; 



104 THE ART OF RENDERING 

And when I tried to steal away 

I found my study full of whist ! 

Then, first to come and last to go, 

There always was a Captain Hogg — 

What d'ye think of that, my Cat? 

What d'ye think of that, my Dog ? 

Now was not that an awful dream 

For one who single is and snug, 
With Pussy in the elbow-chair 

And Tray reposing on the rug? 
If I must totter down the hill, 

'Tis safest done without a clog — 
What d'ye think of that, my Cat? 

What d'ye think of that, my Dog? 

Thomas Hood. 



AUNT NANCY'S ACCOUNT OF A FASHIONABLE 
PARLOR RECITAL. 

Well now, I hadn't the faintest kind of an idee of sayin' 
anything myself to-night. I'd a be'n settin' down there 
with you folks if it hadn't a be'n that my niece, by mar- 
riage, Mrs. Hiram C. Bodge, has to stay down in the dressin' 
room there to fix her daughter's hair and get her ready to 
sing. 

I suppose you're all acquainted with my nephew I'm vis- 
itin' — Mr. Hiram C. Bodge. You'd ort to be, sence 
I judge he passes the most of his time where I found him 
when I came, day before yesterday. He wasn't to the train 
to meet me, but I laid it to sickness and set out to find the 
house ; and who should I see a standin' on the corner but 
him — a ialkin' politics, on his way to meet me. I knowed 
him the minute I saw him — you ain't goin' to forget a boy 



AUNT NANCY 105 

you've spanked as often as I ha-ve him — and he knowed me 
and a worse beat man you never saw. 

" Aunt Nancy ! s'he ; can't be I'm behind time for your 
train ! " He was so completely beat that I says, to ease 
his f eelin's, that likely the train was before time. 

But what I started out to say was that, of them that 
comes next on the program ain't ready, they asked me to 
come out and talk to you a spell, so's you wouldn't feel neg- 
lected and get mad and go home. And my niece, by mar- 
riage, Mrs. Hiram C. Bodge — nice a woman's ever lived — 
she wanted me to tell you about a new-fangled " recital " 
I attended whilst to my nephew, Martin Bodge 's — brother 
to Hiram — that I was visitin' before I come heie. 

Hiram as you know, is jest ordinary well-to-do, but Mar- 
tin, his brother in the city, is extraordinary well-to-do. 
Some folks would go ahead and tell you what he was wu'th, 
but I ain't the braggy kind. 

But Martin is jest as plain and sensible a man as you 
ever saw ; if there is any high falutin* foolishness in the 
house, it's because of his wife — Henrietta. ( I dont s'p- 
ose my niece, by marriage, Mrs. Hiram C. Bodge 'lowed I 
was going to tell all this, but I tell'm whilst I ain't a talker, 
when they get me started I am going to have my say. ) 

Well, whilst to Martin's I chanced to hear Martin say to 
his wife that he had not forgot my goodness and he pro. 
posed to entertain me to the best of his ability, but Henrietta 
put in that she simply would not give a dinner for me ; said 
nothing showed deficiencies like a dinner ; and I did not 
blame Henrietta for that, a mite ; for there's no use pre- 
tendin* that the cookin' done in that house can compare 
with my cookin', and it would be dreadful humiliatin' for 
her to have such a deficiency showed up to me before com- 
pany. So they finally settled on what she said was a " Par- 
lor Recital; " and it seems that a " Parlor Recital " is 



106 THE ART OF RENDERING 

where you set down and listen to folks play and speak and 
sing, and so forth. 

Howsumever, except for a frowsy headed young feller a 
playin' the piany, 'twas all did hy one girl, and after the 
piany playin' was over — sftid what a relief it was ! — in she 
come. 

I won't say she wa'nt pretty, for when she smiled and 
bowed to the folks she certainly did look so, but 'stead of 
bein' dressed suitable for the occasion, she had on as simple 
a made, white dress as you ever saw. Every one says, " How 
exquisite! " I 'spose they thought like me, that we 
ortn't to judge — not knowin' other folks' circumstances. 

Well, then she begun. I jest said we ortn't to judge, but 
I've heard speakin' in my day, and no one on earth could 
call what she done anything but plain talkin'. 'Twas plain 
she'd lived in the country and if I hadn't known contrary- 
wise I'd declared 'twas our old place she was describin '. 
I declare it made me home-sick ! And I spoke out and s'l : 
* That's our old lane and barn and cows to a T. " And 
every one around smiled and said, " That is praise indeed. " 

Yes, 'twas evident she had lived in the country and 'twas 
to her credit she wa'nt ashamed to tell it, but as for callin' 
it speakin' ! 

Then she began on something else and thinks I, " maybe 
she'll do better. " But landy ! she talked for half a dozen 
people at onct. What her idee was in tryin' to give a dia- 
logue by herself I don't know, unless 'twas them that ex- 
pected to take part didn't come, and she, bein' quick mind- 
ed, had remembered their parts and went ahead and done 
the best she could — and if so she deserved credit, and I 
spoke out and said so. 

Then the frowsy young feller played and then I expected 
something fine, for she was goin' to sing, and some woman 
whisperin' behind me ( not knowin' I was related ) had 



AUNT NANCY 107 

said that the Bodges would never have paid her her price 
if it hadn't be'n they wanted to show off ; so I was expectin' 
some fine singin'; but — I declare I'm ashamed to tell it 
for if I'd a had my eyes shut, I'd a declared up and down 
that 'twas my darky wash-woman ; and more'n that, she'd 
stop and talk, jest like Polly does to her baby. I let 
her bring her baby ain't a mite o' trouble ; plays with the, 
clothes pins on the floor. Aunt Polly's a real good singer! 
for darky singin', of course, I mean. Pa always sets 
around wash-days jest to hear her ; but the idee of her sing- 
in' identical with my old darky wash -woman before them 
city people I I was completely beat, and I said right out : 
" Well, that's my darky wash-woman to a T. " And 
every one around smiled and said something about " com- 
plimentary. " 

Then come the last of her doin's, and if I couldn't make 
head or tail out of her dialogue, I was worse put out at this. 
I jest can't describe it ! First, she seemed to be strewin' 
leaves on the ground — the young feller meanwhile was 
playin' mournful soundin' music, — and her face looked sad 
and weary and finally down she sinks and I saw she was 
goin' into a faint, and I called out for some one to hurry 
up and ketch her; but they all set still; so I rose up and 
handed my fan and campfire to a man on the front row o' 
seats and told him they'd revive her, but a woman sittin' 
beside me pulled me back and said I didn't understand — 
that it was a pantymime of " The Seasons ; " that when 
she seemed to be strewin' leaves, she was portrayin' Autumn; 
that now whilst she appeared to be in a faint, she was depic- 
tin' the deep repose of Winter, and that then would come 
Spring. And sure enough, up she waked as sweet as you 
please, smilin' and seemin' to listen to the birds and look- 
in' at herself in the water ; and then she began runnin' and 
dancin' and gatherin' her lapf ul of flowers — it was Sum- 



108 THE ART OF RENDERING 

mer she was now portrayin', — and the young feller's music 
got jest as lively as could be, and, altogether, it was real 
gay. I found myself more'n a laughin'. I always do 
laugh when I hear any one laugh like her ; and then she 
finally danced out of the room and the people got up and 
said how much they enjoyed it ; and I do believe every one 
in that room said they was glad to see I'd enjoyed it so much. 
I don't know what in the wide world give them the idte 
Id enjoyed it, for you know my opinion of every last 
thing she done. But I don't pretend to understand city 
ways — and I must be a goin';the girls is surely through 
with their primpin' by this time and ready for their speak- 
in' and singin'. 

I jest come back to say whatever you do don't let on to 
the girls about what I've been a tellin' you — might dis- 
courage them from tryin'. 

Mary M. Boynton. 

Keprinted by the courtesy of the Eldridg e Entertainment House, 
Franklin, Ohio, from whom additional readings by Mary M. Boynton 
may be secured. 



TILDY SAID. 



I know some things I bet you don't, 

About what bad boys gits 
When dey does wrong, and don't do right ; 

And how dey ketches fits 
When dey goes off on Sundays 

A fishin' in de creek ; 
And how de bad man fixes 'em 

So dey can't move or speak. 

Ole Tildy told me all about 

A heap of things she knows ; 



TILDY SAID 109 

'Cause she sees goblins in de dark, 

And when de roosters crows, 
She goes out on de portico, 

And sees a heap of things 
That's big as folks, and black as her, 

An' 's got some horns and wings. 

An' dey tells Tildy all about 

What folks does when dey's dead ; 
An* sometimes dey takes chillen off, 

An* hides 'em, Tildy said ; 
An' makes 'em sleep in puddle-holes, 

An' drink ole mud an' stuff ; 
An' sometimes when dey's been right bad, 

Dey kills 'em sure enough. 

One Sunday, Tildy said, two boys 

Went fishin' in de creek, 
An' when de fish commenced to bite, 

Dey couldn't move or speak ; 
An' nobody couldn't move em, 

Nor lift 'em from de spot; 
An' dey staid dere a hundred years, 

Until dey died and rot. 

An' Tildy said, one Sunday night 

A boy come from de lawn, 
Where he'd been a pi ay in' marvels, 

An' found his home was gone. 
An' two great big, black, ugly things 

Was standin by de fence 
An' run him till he couldn't move, 

An' didn't have no sense. 



110 THE ART OF RENDERING 

Tildy said, once a man was dead, 

An' when some boys come in 
What had been a stealin' apples, 

De man commenced to grin, 
An* all de boys run out of doors, 

An* fell down on dere knees, 
An' limbs growed out, an' dey stayed dere, 

An' turned to apple trees. 

I'm skeered to go about Tom Prince, 

'Cause once he stole some cake : 
An* I bet some time he'll wake up, 

An* find he ain't awake, 
An* find some big, ole. wooly things 

A standin' round his bed, 
To take him off to some dark place, 

An* make him wish he 'as dead. 

Booth Lowrey. 



Man was saying : " How can we, 
In our little boats at sea, 
Pass the guarda-costas by ? " 
" Row ! " said Woman in reply. 

Man was saying : " How forget 
Perils that our lives beset, 
Strife and poverty's low cry? " 
" Sleep ! " said Woman in reply. 

Man was saying : * How be sure 
Beauty's favor to secure, 
Nor the subtle philter try ? " 
" Love ! " said Woman in reply. 

Victor Hugo. 



CONVERSATIONAL STYLE 111 



THE KATYDID IN OPERA. 

In the season, we have music every night. The silence 
of a summer night in the country is a silence to which you 
can listen ; " soft stillness and the night become the touches 
of sweet harmony. " Come out in this musical silence for 
awhile if you " want to hear the old band play ; " listen to 
it night after night, until you have learned to love this me- 
lodious stillness, and then if you wish, go back to brick 
walls and paved streets, and lie down to be lulled to sleep 
by the varied pleasing of rattling hacks, crashing trucks, 
thundering fire engines and jingling trolley bells. 

It is pleasant, as we attend the opera night after night 
to note the advent of old favorites. Our artists teach their 
children to sing and play so exactly like themselves that 
we scarcely realize we have a new cast every season. We 
think of it and speak of it, perhaps, in the closing days of 
summer. The music, I grant you, is somewhat melancholy 
in the autumn time. There will come some sharp, keen 
night when the orchestra is very meager. Only a few hardy 
little musicians appear. And they do not play very long ; 
they cut the opera in every scene, and play only long e- 
nough, probably, to save the box receipts, then they pack 
up their instruments and hurry away to the warmest cor- 
ners of stack yard and stubble field. We observe on these 
nights that the voices of the soloists display no hoarseness 
however. 80 long as they do sing, they sing their best. 

But in spite of that, the autumnal performance on the 
whole is pathetic. For they choose mournful themes ; they 
sing of the golden summer that is gone, and their music 
shudders with the dread of frosty nights and the cruel win- 
ter that is coming ; they play dirges for their dead comrades, 
they sing of purple aster and royal golden-rod ; the plumy 
lances of the iron weed in old meadows ; the yellow prim- 



112 THE ART OF RENDERING 

rose, gleaming like stars in the gray twilight ; the ghostly 
thistle-do wn,dr if ting over the reedy marshes where the fire- 
flies died ; of grotesque shadows in the old stump lot ; of 
cold winds, creeping with eerie whispers across the fields 
where the corn stands in ragged shocks with stiffened blades ; 
of wheeling colonies of summer birds that flecked the fields 
with restless shadows as they gathered the clans together 
and sped away to the gayety of the winter resorts ; of faded 
ferns in the glens, of withered grasses in the fence corners 
and blighted flowers in the old-fashioned gardens, until at 
last the merry voices cease, all the daughters of music are 
brought low, the last little soloist sings his good-bye song 
with a brave little trill in his far-reaching voice, and goeth 
the way of all grasshoppers. * * * * 

So he sings for us in the lengthening nights. And as he 
sings, some there are in his audience who hear as in a dream, 
the songs he sung on yester eve ; songs of that happy Past 
" whose yesterdays look backward with a smile. " To them 
his strident solo is a talisman that opens wide the doors of 
Memoryland, with the old walks we only take when time is 
swifter than a thought and longer than eternity. 

Down winding paths beneath the whispering oaks; 
thiough tangled grasses in the orchard glooms ; across the 
foot-bridge where the brook goes singing softly all night 
long ; through forest vistas, where the sunset loiters with 
its benediction to the day — all the dear paths that only 
lovers know and love ; even by shadowed ways that lead 
through valleys where the damps are chill ; through desert 
paths of tears, and rankling pain, where Marah's waters 
darken in the solemn pools ; and all the way and all the 
time the clasp of a fluttering hand, the gleam of starlight 
in the love-lit eyes. Until, at last, the song and the dream 
lead on to where the singing brook, its laughter silenced 
and its music hushed, deepens into the darkly flowing river 



THE GARDENER 113 

and in the morning light that lights our sun, the shadows 
pass away forever. 

Ah, katydid, in other worlds than ours you must have 
sung and learned new melodies since all the days were gold 
and all the world was young. For who, in this bright 
world of ours, this land of hope and song, this sunlit world 
of happy hearts and summer skies, could teach your tiny 
harp these minor chords? Where could you learn on all 
this laughing earth, that Joy and Sorrow, sisters born of 
Love, walk ever hand in hand ? Where could you learn to 
sing of tears and loneliness ? 
"Chimes from a Jester's Bells. " Robert J. Burdette. 



THE GARDENER. 



And if you ever planted a morning glory seed, which I 
advise you to do for the sheer pleasure of it — a poor thing 
brown and hopeless and almost formless in shape or in beau- 
ty, but put it in the ground, and the sky will call it, " Come, 
come ! " And if you and I hear what the gardener doth 
you can hear the morning glory flower saying, " I am 
coming. " It is like the sleepy voice, that is only half 
awake, not quite half awake, " Who called me? Was I 
called? " " Hurry, hurry ! " says the wind. " I am get- 
ting my things on, " says the flower. " Oh, hurry, hurry, 
hurry ! " says the sky, and then above the ground comes the 
flash of leaves. And then, if you care to mark a miracle, 
all foul and dispirited, and out of humor apparently with 
all the world, and with self included, and looks clean down, 
lips clamped together as with an iron band, and the sky 
says, " Cheer up ! Come on up here, I am waiting for you 
to flower up here, " and then the leaves expand, and the 
sprangles fling out, and the tendrils climb and climb. 



114 THE ART OF RENDERING 

Oh, morning glory flower, where are you going, morning 
glory flower ? And the morning glory says, " Into the sky, 
into the sky, into the sky ! " Tendrils fling out, climbing 
on whatsoever thing there is to climb on, on the wire netting, 
or the string the child put up, but always climbing into the 
sky. And the ground says, *' You belong down here, you 
seem to be getting aristocratical. You belong down here. 
I am your mother. " But the morning glory says, f * Aye, 
but the sky is my father. I belong to the sky. M And 
when the summer comes, and the autumn approaches, there 
is the morning glory with its purple trumpets of flowers 
and every trumpet, if you had the ear to hear it, and the 
ear of the poet to listen to what it said, would say, " I be- 
long in the sky. M And the gardener believes in the sky* 

And then the gardener believes in tending. The gardener 
knows that the sincerest poetry of life is just digging a- 
round in the dirt, just that ! Oh, beloved, don't you folks 
get tired just doing the same thing all the time? Woman- 
have you ever been known to make a word of remark about 
the dishwashing coming three times a day ? Have you ? 
Have you been heard to say that you didn't so much mind 
to cook, but that the cleaning up hampered your finer sensi- 
bilities and that your sesthetical tendencies were hampered 
by the dish cloth? And if it came only once a week, not 
to say three times a day, there might be some comfort in 
preparing a meal, and the garments are around, and the 
stockings must be fixed for the feet, and the dinner must be 
fixed for the lips, and things must be done over and over 
and over. And I confess that I feel with anybody who 
gets tired of the eternal reiteration of things. But what 
is the gardener doing ? Oh, what he did yesterday, digging 
in the dirt, digging in the dirt, planting the seeds, digging 
in the dirt, tending. Oh, Gardener, blessed Gardener, don't 
get tired digging in the dirt of my heart. Oh, blessed 



CONVERSATIONAL STYLE 115 

Gardener, don't get tired sowing the seeds in my heart. Oh, 
kind Gardener, don't forget to furnish me a sky. Oh, Gar- 
dener, drench me with thy rain, and enswathe me with thy 
dew. Sweeten my breath with thy south wind's gust, and 
shine the lamp light of thy stars on my sleeping face, turn 
the wonder of thy moonlight on the place where we are 
trying to get into the sky, and waken me with the wonder 
of thy winsome look along the eastern window of my heart. 
Oh, Gardener, don't get tired of tending to my garden. 
He says, " Don't worry, I never will ! " 

I would have you mark what seed the Gardener grows. 
I will talk of the flowers that the Christ Gardener grows in 
the heart. One of these is the crocus. It is the earliest 
flower of the lawn. It blooms close against the winter. 
It barely waits till the last winter wave laps on the shore — 
and there is the crocus. Thank God, there is a flower that 
does not wait till spring is here, but grows ere spring has 
come, gives a prophecy. Some of you people have no call 
to wait, you are anguish bound, you are winter girt, you look 
afar, the hills are still clad with snow, the gray skies lower, 
the falling rain is snowflakes, and you say, " Winter, win- 
ter, winter ! " And then the Gardener, so we may not die 
from the winter, and being- winter bound, and storm bound, 
and snow bound, where the winter's drift is barely vanished 
displays the crocus blooms. Oh, the Gardener plants in the 
heart the crocus flower. 

And the Gardener plants in the heart the pansies. "Pan- 
sies, that's for thoughts, " said Brother Shakespeare. Does 
the Gardener plant thoughts? Quite true. Do we chance 
to need flowers, any of them, more than thought flowers ? 
None. The Gardener is planting thoughts, thoughts of a 
better life, thoughts of a day undimmed by despair. True. 
Thoughts of service. True. Thoughts of a life that has 
no weariness. True. Thoughts of a day that is not dark. 



116 THE ART OF RENDERING 

Truly. Thoughts of a prayer a heart may offer that shall 
do somebody help. Thoughts. 

And then the Gardener plants heart's ease. Oh, maybe 
you need that flower — heart's ease. What ails your fingers 
beloved, that you clutch them so tight ? What ails your 
breath that it stops and then hastens like the beating of a 
diseased heart? What ails your voice that it breaks like 
an instrument out of tune? What ails your hand that 
when you reach out to a friend, then all of a sudden you 
turn your face away and your hand shakes, and you say 
" Excuse me, excuse me ? " Oh, well, you have heartache 
and you need heart's ease. And then the Gardener, this 
beautiful Gardener, this blessed Gardener, he is planting 
the flower called heart's ease, and it is for the heartening of 
the nations. Oh, heart, hast thou this heart's ease flower? 

And then this Gardener plants the red rose of love. 
Every heart hath room for its red rose flower. 

And this Gardener plants the amaranth, that is the flow- 
er of immortality. And when day darkens, then we take 
the amaranth flower of purple and put it up before our sight 
and then we know time cometh when the curtain of dark 
is not put down and when the dull lamp of evening star is 
snuffed out by daylight. 

And then this Gardener plants the flower of the lily, the 
white flower of a blameless life. This bad life, yes, and the 
bleak? And in that dull drear ground he plants the seed 
and lo, there is the white flower of a blameless life. True. 

And there is the lily flower of resurrection. I cannot, I 
cannot, I cannot pass this place. I must go in. What place 
is this? It is an acre. Yes. Whose is it? God's acre. 
And I must go in. It has winter on it. And all wonder- 
ful enough, when you go in, to find the dull grave ye left 
and wept across with broken hearts, it is all grown white as 
the moonlight of June with lilies of the resurrection. 

Bishop James A. Quayle. 



NARRATIVE STYLE 117 

THE THIRD STEP IN RENDERING. 
NARRATIVE STYLE. 

A Narrative is a connected account of events related 
as a story, an incident or an event. This style may 
include Anecdotes, Histories, Biographies and Travels. 

The Narrative style is closely related to the Conver* 
sational style, therefore directions for rendering that style 
may be followed in this. 

A narration or story must have a Purpose. It may 
be either to entertain, to instruct or to ennoble. Beside 
this, the effect the narration is likely to produce must 
be taken into consideration. 

It must have a Unity to be preserved throughout, with 
the unimportant subordinate to the central idea. 

It must be Complete that the mind may be satisfied. 

In relating an Anecdote, reserve the point till all the 
circumstances are related. Remember : " Brevity is 
the soul of wit. " 

Successful story telling is a rare and charming gift. 
Simple narration seems to be the easiest thing possible, yet 
few are able to successfully tell a good story. Young and 
old alike are interested in stories. A story appropriate 
and in harmony with the occasion is seldom out of place. 

Simple events may be told in the order of their hap- 
pening, leaving out parts that do not bear on the story. 
Describing minutely all details is tedious to the listener. 

Train the mind to select readily the essentials, leaving 
out the unessential. 



118 THE ART OF RENDERING 

Suggestions found in the chapter on Imagination will 
be found helpful at this point. It treats of how the mind 
may take up the bare facts and through the imagination 
re-create them with the aid of the fancy, in this way creat- 
ing in commonplace happenings a new life and interest, 
always, of course, keeping within the bonds of truth, unless 
the story is a novel. The culture of the imagination aids 
original story telling and in rendering stories written by 
others. In reading, the mind must first secure the facts, the 
events, as they happened, as nearly as possible. Then use 
such material as if an actual experience, when the mind may 
do the re-creative work, coloring the expression with the 
personality of the reader, where he may respond showing 
his attitude toward all the incidents he narrates. 

The aged, because of a large experience are especially 
narrative in style. 

" The poor, the rich, the valliant, and the sage, 
The boasting youth, and narrative old age. " 



RIDING ON A CROCODILE. 

By the time the cayman was within two yards of me, I 
saw he was in a state of fear and perturbation. I instantly 
dropped the mast, sprung up and jumped on his back, turn, 
ing half round as I vaulted, so that I gained my seat with 
my face in a right position. I immediately seized his fore- 
legs and by main force twisted them on his back; thus 
they served for a bridle. He now seemed to have recovered 
from his surprise, and, probably fancying himself in hostile 
company, began to plunge furiously and lashed the sand 
with his long and powerful tail. I was out of reach of it 
by being near his head. He continued to plunge and strike 
and made my seat very uncomfortable. It must have been 



NARRATIVE STYLE 119 

a fine sight for an unoccupied spectator. 

The people roared out in triumph, and were so vociferous, 
that it was some time before they heard me tell them to pull 
me and my beast of burden further inland. I was appre- 
hensive the rope might break and then there would have 
been every chance of going down to the regions under the 
water with the cayman. 

The people dragged us about forty yards on the sand. 
It was the first and last time I was ever on a cayman's back. 
Should it be asked how I managed to keep my seat, I would 
answer, I hunted some years with Lord Darlington's fox 
hounds. 

Charles Waterton. 



ADVENTURE WITH A PYTHON. 

That moment the negro next to me seized the lance and 
held it firm in its place while I dashed head foremost into 
the den to grapple with the snake, and to get hold of his 
tail before he could do any mischief. 

On pinning him to the ground with the lance, he gave a 
tremendous loud hiss, and the little dog ran away, howling 
as he went. We had a sharp fray in the den, the rotten 
sticks flying on all sides, and each party struggling for the 
superiority. I called out to the second negro to throw himself 
upon me as I found I was not heavy enough. He did so, 
and his additional weight was of great service. I had now 
got firm hold of his tail, and after a violent struggle or 
two, he gave in, finding himself overpowered. This was 
the moment to secure him. So while the first negro con- 
tinued to hold the lance firm to the ground, and the other 
was helping me, I contrived to unloose my braces and with 
them tied up the snake's mouth. 



120 THE ART OF RENDERING 

The snake finding himself in an unpleasant situation, 
tried to better himself, and set resolutely to work, but we 
overpowered him. It measured fourteen feet and was of 
great thickness. We contrived to make him twist himself 
around the shaft of the lance, and then prepared to convey 
him out of the forest. 1 stood at his head and held it 
firmly under my arm, one negro supported the belly, and 
the other the tail. In this order we began to move slowly 
towards home, and reached it after resting ten times. 

Charles Waterton. 



A " SASSY » CORPSE. 

Jehoida Brown and his good wife Abigail had been mem- 
bers of the Wekamen Baptist church for many years. 
Jehoida was a deacon and his wife was all that except the 
name. About this time an uncertain number of spooks 
appeared in and about Wekamen and Wahoo and became 
obtrusively familiar and oppressively impertinent in the 
affairs of the community. Abigail was sure she had seen 
the trailing skirts of one or two and she became at once a 
confirmed, zealous, and ft rantankerous " spiritualist. She 
was not only interested, but on terms of constant social in- 
ter course with the uncanny denizens of " Spookland. " 

In the course of time " Deekin " Brown died. Abigail 
had 'still remaining in her soul a fragment of respect for 
the "Deekin's " religious convictions and church affiliations 
so she sent for Elder Donnelly — for years the " Deekin's" 
pastor — to come and officiate in the funeral. 

When the hour for the services arrived the spiritual and 
spirited Abigail declared " on her conscience " she would 
not listen to the Elder's nonsense ; but she would retire to 



NARRATIVE STYLE 121 

a private room where she could commune with the lt sperit " 
of her dear companiou while the minister was entertaining 
and comforting the neighbors and mourners with an end- 
less funeral "sarmin. " 

The Elder delivered the usual homily on such occasions — 
dilating on the virtue and piety of the departed Deacon 
and closing with a descriptive bird's-eye of his present 
home, condition, and business. The " Deekin " he said^ 
was in glory, was perfectly happy, and " singin' among the 
An-gels, " ( forgetful of his late spouse. ) He closed the 
" sarmin " leaving the " Deekin " in the midst of some 
entrancing lyric — oblivious to all mundane interests. 

As the meeting was being dismissed, the widow rushed 
out of her " private room. " She had been quite attentive 
to the Elder's " sarmin " notwithstanding the presence of 
the visiting "sperit " of Mr. Brown. She called a halt in 
the movement of the congregation and pre-emptorily order- 
ed them seated a moment. As it was " her funeral » 
and they were there to accomodate her, the people sat 
down. 

In a sharp and acrid tone of voice she declared that Eld- 
er Donnely had lied through his whole " sarmin. " She 
had been in communion with the " Deekin " during the 
whole time ; he was not among the Angels ; but with her. 
He was " not singin' neither, " but nebulously hovering 
over Abigail's head. She added that the " Deekin " sent 
a message that he did not want Elder Donnely to lie about 
him; he — the Elder — " better go home and tend to his 
own business. " Such she said was the message of " Deekin " 
Brown to his friends and the Elder. 

Elder Donnely rose with a sad countenance which he 
partially covered with a red bandana ; in a doleful tone of 
voice, and a suspicion of a make-believe tear in one eye he 
declared with his rich Irish brogue: 



122 THE ART OF RENDERING 

" Oi have preached many a fun'ral sarmin; but the 
Lord knows this is the first time I've been sassed bj the 
corpse for me effort. " 

Then the procession moved on. 

Rev. H. O. Rowlands. 



WEE DAVIE. 



" "Wee Davie " was the only child of William Thorburn, 
blacksmith. He had reached the age at which he could 
venture, with prudence and reflection, on a journey from 
one chair to another ; his wits kept alive by maternal warn- 
ings of " Tak care, Davie; mind the fire, Davie. " 
When the journey was ended in safety, and he looked over 
his shoulder with a crow of joy to his mother, he was re - 
warded, in addition to the rewards of his own brave and 
adventurous spirit, by such a smile as equalled only his own, 
and by the well-merited approval of " Weel done, Davie ! " 

Davie was the most powerful member of the household. 
Neither the British fleet, nor the French army, nor the 
Armstrong gun had the power of doing what Davie did. 
They might as well have tried to make a primrose grow or 
a lark sing! 

He was for example a wonderful stimulus to labor. The 
smith had been rather disposed to idleness before his son's 
arrival. He did not take to his work on cold mornings as 
he might have done, and was apt to neglect many oppor- 
tunities, which offered themselves, of bettering his condi- 
tion ; and Jeanie was easily put off by some plausible ob- 
jection when she urged her husband to make an additional 
honest penny to keep the house. But " the bairn " be- 
came a new motive to exertion ; and the thought of leaving 
him and Jeanie more comfortable, in case sickness laid the 



NARRATIVE STYLE 123 

smith aside, or death took him away, became like a new 
sinew to his powerful arm, as he wielded the hammer and 
made it ring the music of hearty work on the sounding 
anvil. The meaning of benefit-clubs, sick-societies, and 
penny-banks was fully explained by u wee Davie. " 

Davie also exercised a remarkable influence on his 
father's political views and social habits. The smith had 
been fond of debates on political questions : and no more 
sonorous growl of discontent than his could be heard a- 
gainst the " powers that be, " the injustice done to the 
masses, or the misery which was occasioned by class leg- 
islation. He had also made up his mind not to be happy 
or contented, but only to endure life as a necessity laid up- 
on him, until the required reforms in church and state, at 
home and abroad, had been attained. But his wife, without 
uttering a syllable on matters which she did not even pre- 
tend to understand ; by a series of acts out of Parliament ; 
by reforms in household arrangements ; by introducing good 
bills into her own House of Commons ; and by a charter, 
whose points were very commonplace ones — such as a com- 
fortable meal, a tidy home, a clean fireside, a polished grate, 
above all, a cheerful countenance and womanly love — by 
these radical changes she had made her husband wonder- 
fully fond of his home. He was, under this teaching, get- 
ting too contented for a patriot, and too happy for a man 
in an ill-governed world. His old companions at last could 
not coax him out at night. He was lost as a member of 
one of the most philosophical clubs in the neighborhood. 
" His old pluck, " they said, " was gone. " The wife, it 
was alleged by the patriotic bachelors, had " cowed " him 
and driven all the spirit out of him. But " wee Davie " 
completed this revolution. I shall tell you how. 

One failing of William's had hitherto resisted Jeanie's 
silent influence. The smith had formed the habit, before 



124 THE ART OF RENDERING 

he was married, of meeting a few companions, " just in a 
friendly way, " on pay-nights at a public-house. It was 
true that he was never what might be called a drunkard — 
never lost a day's work — never was the worst for liquor, 
etc. But, nevertheless, when he entered the snuggery in 
Peter Wilson's whisky-shop, with the blazing fire and com- 
fortable atmosphere ; and when, with half-a-dozen talkative, 
and to him, pleasant fellows and old companions, he sat 
around the fire, and the glasses circulated ; and the gos- 
sip of the week was discussed ; and racy stories were told : 
and one or two songs sung, linked together by memories 
of old merry-meetings; and current jokes were repeated 
with humor, of the tyrannical influence which some would 
presume to exercise on " innocent enjoyment " — then 
would the smith's brawny chest expand, and his face beam, 
and his feelings become malleable, and his sixpences be- 
gin to melt, and flow out in generous sympathy into Peter 
Wilson's fozy hand, to be counted greedily beneath his 
sodden eyes. And so it was the smith's wages were al- 
ways lessened by Peter's gains. His wife had her fears — 
her horrid anticipations — but did not like, even to her 
husband, to hint at anything so dreadful as what she 
in her heart dreaded. She took her own way, ho wever, to 
win him to the house and to good, and gently insinuated 
wishes rather than expressed them. The smith, no doubt, 
she comforted herself by thinking, " was only merry, " and 
never ill-tempered or unkind — " yet at times, — and then, 
what if — ! " Yes. Jeanie, you are right! The demon 
sneaks into the house by degrees, and at first he may be 
kept out, and the door shut upon him ; but let him only 
once take possession, then he will keep it, and will keep it 
and shut the door against everything pure, lovely, and of 
good report — barring it against thee and " wee Davie, " 
ay, and One who is best of all — and will fill the house 



WEE DAVIE 125 

with sin and shame, with misery and despair ! But " wee 
Davie, " with his arm of might, drove the demon out. It 
happened thus : 

One evening when the smith returned home so that " you 
could know it on him, " Davie toddled forward ; and his 
father, lifting him up, made him stand on his knee. The 
child began to play with the locks of the Sampson, to pat 
him on the cheek, and to repeat with glee the name of 
<' dad-a. " The smith gazed on him intently, and with a 
peculiar look of love, mingled with sadness. " Isn't he a 
bonnie bairn ? " asked Jeanie, as she looked over her hus- 
band's shoulder at the child, nodding and smiling to him. 
The smith spoke not a word, but gazed intently on his boy 
while some sudden emotion was strongly working in his 
countenance. 

" It's done ! " he at last said, as he put the child down. 

" What's wrang? what's wrang? " exclaimed his wife as 
she stood before him, and put her hands round his shoulders, 
bending down until her face was close to his. 

" Everything is wrang, Jeanie. " 

" Willie, whatis't? are ye no weel? — tell me what's 
wrang wr you ! — oh, tell me ! " she exclaimed in evident 
alarm. 

" It's a' right noo. " he said, rising up and seizing the 
child. He lifted him to his breast and kissed him. Then 
looking up he said, " Davie has done it, along wi' you, 
Jeanie. Thank God, I am a free man ! " 

His wife felt awed, she knew not how. 

" Sit doon, " he said, as he took out his handkerchief, 
and wiped away a tear from his eye, " and I'll tell you a' 
aboot it. " 

Jeanie sat on a stool at his feet, with Davie on her knee. 
The smith seized the child's little hand in one of his own 
and with the other took his wife's. 



126 THE ART OF RENDERING 

" I hav'na been what ye may ca'a drunkard, " he said, 
slowly, and like a man abashed, " but I hae been often 
as I shouldna have been, and as, wi* God's help, I never, 
never will be again ! " 

" Oh ! " exclaimed Jeanie. 

" It's done, it ? s done ; as I'm a leevin man, it's done ! 
But dinna greet, Jeanie. Thank God for you and Davie 
my best blessings. " 

" Except Himself ! " said Jeanie, as she hung on her 
husband's neck. 

" And noo, woman, " replied the smith, " nae mair about 
it ; it's done. Gie wee Davie a piece, and get the supper 
ready. " 

Norman Macleod. 



ELIZABETH. 



Now was the winter gone, and the snow ; and Robin 

the Redbreast, 
Boasted on bush and tree it was he, it was he and no other 
That had covered with leaves the Babes in the Wood, 

and blithely 
All the birds sang with him, and little cared for his boasting, 
Or for his Babes in the Wood, or the Cruel Uncle, and only 
Sang for the mates they had chosen, and cared for the 

nests they were building. 
With them, but more sedately and meekly,Elizabeth Haddon 
Sang in her inmost heart, but her lips were silent and 

songless. 
Thus came the lovely spring with a rush of blossoms and 

music, 
Flooding the earth with flowers, and the air with melodies 

vernal. 



NARRATIVE STYLE 127 

Then it came to pass, one pleasant morning, that slowly 

Up the road there came a cavalcade, as of pilgrims, 

Men and women, wending their way to the Quarterly 

Meeting 
In the neighboring town ; and with them came riding 

John Estaugh. 
At Elizabeth's door they stopped to rest, and alighting 
Tasted the currant wine, and the bread of rye, and the honey 
Brought from the hives, that stood by the sunny wall of 

the garden ; 
Then remounted their horses, refreshed, and continued 

their journey, 
And Elizabeth with them, and Joseph, and Hannah the 

housemaid. 
But, as they started, Elizabeth lingered a little, and leaning 
Over her horse's neck, in a whisper said to John Estaugh: 
" Tarry awhile behind, for I have something to tell thee, 
Not to be spoken lightly, nor in the presence of others ; 
Them it concerneth not, only thee and me it concerneth. * 
And they rode slowly along through the woods, conversing 

together. 
It was pleasant to breathe the fragrant air of the forest ; 
It was pleasant to live on that bright and happy May morning! 

Then Elizabeth said, though still with a certain reluctance 
As if impelled to reveal a secret she fain would have guarded; 
" I will no longer conceal what is laid upon me to tell thee; 
I have received from the Lord a charge to love thee, John 
Estaugh. " 

And John Estaugh made answer, surprised by the words 

she had spoken, 
" Pleasant to me are thy converse, thy ways, thy meekness 

of spirit ; 



128 THE ART OF RENDERING 

Pleasant thy frankness of speech, and thy soul's immacu- 
late whiteness, 

Love without dissimulation, a holy and inward adorning. 

But I have yet no light to lead me, no voice to direct me. 

When the Lord's work is done, and the toil and the labor 
completed 

He hath appointed to me, I will gather into the stillness 

Of my own heart awhile, and listen and wait for his guid- 
ance. " 

Then Elizabeth said, not troubled nor wounded in spirit, 
" So is it best, John Estaugh. We will not speak of it 

further. 
It hath been laid upon me to tell thee this, for to-morrow 
Thou art going away, across the sea, and I know not 
When I shall see thee more ; but if the Lord hath decreed it, 
Thou wilt return again to seek me here and to find me. " 
And they rode onward in silence, and entered the town 

with the others. 

Ships that pass in the night, and speak each other in passing, 
Only a signal shown and a distant voice in the darkness ; 
So on the ocean of life we pass and speak one another, 
Only a look and a voice, then darkness again and a silence. 

Now went on as of old the quiet life of the homestead. 
Patient and unrepining Elizabeth labored, in all things 
Mindful not of herself, but bearing the burdens of others 
Always thoughtful and kind and untroubled ; and Hannah 

the housemaid 
Diligent early and late, and rosy with washing and scouring, 
Still as of old disparaged the eminent merits of Joseph, 
And was at times reproved for her light and frothy behavior, 
For her shy looks, and her careless words, and her evil 

surmisings, 



NARRATIVE STYLE 129 

Being pressed down somewhat, like a cart with sheaves 

overladen, 
As she would sometimes say to Joseph, quoting the Scriptures. 

Meanwhile John Estaugh departed across the sea, and 
departing 

Carried hid in his heart a secret sacred and precious, 

Filling its chambers with fragrance, and seeming to him in 
its sweetness 

Mary's ointment of spikenard, that filled all the house with 
its odor. 

O lost days of delight, that are wasted in doubting and 
waiting: ! 

O lost hours and days in which we might have been happy ! 

But the light shone at last, and guided his wavering foot- 
steps, 

And at last came the voice, imperative, questionless, certain. 

Then John Estaugh came back o'er the sea for the gift 

that was offered, 
Better than houses and lands, the gift of a woman's affection. 
And on the First Day that followed, he rose in the Silent 

Assembly, 
Holding in his strong hand a hand that trembled a little, 
Promising to be kind and true and faithful in all things. 
Such were the marriage-rites of John and Elizabeth Estaugh. 

And not otherwise Joseph, the honest, the diligent servant, 

Sped in his bashful wooing with homely Hannah the house- 
maid ; 

For when he asked her the question, she answered, " Nay ; " 
and then added 

" But thee may make believe, and see what will come of 
it, Joseph. " 

" Elizabeth. " Parts III & IV H. W. Longfellow. 



130 THE ART OF RENDERING 



FOURTH STEP IN RENDERING. 
DESCRIPTIVE STYLE. 

To Describe is to represent by drawing ; a represen- 
tation by words or other signs. The figure to be delin- 
eated may be that which appeals to the eye : objects, 
persons, places. 

The person who gives the description must, like a 
photographer y select a definite view-point and hold 
it unchanged for one picture lest the impression be 
indistinct. If the view-point is large and distant, 
a change may be allowed, otherwise but one impression 
should be given. The essential characteristics must be 
brought out. Take advantage of proper background, 
contrasts and comparisons. Use carefully and skillfully 
such words as will awaken mental pictures: for 
example, make use of words giving color, brilliancy 
and life. 

Call attention to the various points to be brought out 
in such an order as to be easily grasped by the listener. 
Naturally the mind looks, first at the picture as a whole, 
next the pafts, then the relation of one part to another, 
last, selects that which seems most important. 

As the speaker presents his mental picture to his lis- 
teners he too should look at his picture as well as at his 
auditors. Both speaker and listeners inspect it together, 
so it cannot be placed between speaker and audience. 



DESCRIPTIVE STYLE 131 

The Descriptive Style is closely related to the Conversa* 
tional Style ; because of this, the suggestions for rendering 
the Conversational Style may be applied to the Descriptive. 

As in the Narrative Style so in the Descriptive Style there 
must be a Purpose. The Unity must be preserved. See 
that the picture is properly focused. It must be well bak 
anced and complete. It must be brief and well concentra- 
ted so a mind that has given no previous thought to it 
may grasp all readily like a picture. Enter into the de- 
scription as if it is something new that you only know. 

It is of importance to note at this point that knowing in 
an abstract way is cold and uninteresting, and has little 
power to influence or move ; knowing things in a concrete 
way leads to life and action. Abstract and general ideas 
have no power to move the emotions, while the presenting 
of definite, actual ideas may be grasped first by the mind 
of the speaker after which he may move his listeners pro- 
foundly. We may illustrate what we mean by general 
ideas as compared with the particular by calling attention 
to the fact that we may hear, almost unmoved, of some great 
disaster, some horror costing hundreds of lives, while a 
definite description of one child perishing in some accident 
moves us profoundly, even to tears. Attention to what is 
barely suggested here will enable the speaker to make wse 
of concrete rather than the abstract, particular rather 
than general ideas. 

Where ideas of a general character must be used in the 
readings, the reader must create vivid mental pictures for 
himself, in this way adding reality and life. The follow- 
ing may serve to illustrate the mental action in creating 
real, concrete ideas from what is generally mere words. 

Let the student read " The Ocean, " by Lord Byron. 

" Thou glorious mirror, " — Let the mind behold a vast, 
glassy surface, wherein, in turn, is reflected tempest, calm, 



132 THE ART OF RENDERING 

convulsed, breeze, gale, storm, ice, and " dark heaving. v 
Following these definite reflections in this vast mirror, the 
mind passes to the invisible, mystic, which cannot be de- 
scribed. But as the mind sees definite pictures of the sur- 
face of the water as the different word pictures are present- 
ed — pictured in detail, as if to reproduce in a painting, the 
listener will feel the force of something alive and interest- 
ing. Herein is art. Each artist must create his own ideals. 
He may introduce into this series of ocean views, boats, ships 
clouds, rocks or anything to make it exist in mind as an 
object, concrete, — not abstract or considered apart from 
a particular object. 

Thou glorious mirror, where the Almighty's form 

Glasses itself in tempests ; in all time, 

Calm or convulsed — in breeze, or gale or storm, 

Icing the pole, or in the torrid clime 

Dark- heaving ; — boundless, endless and sublime — 

The image of Eternity — the throne 

Of the Invisible ; even from out thy slime — 

The monsters of the deep are made ; each zone 

Obeys thee : thou goest forth, dread, fathomless, alone. 

Says Dr. Campbell concerning the importance of clear- 
ness : " If the medium through which we look at any ob- 
ject is perfectly transparent, our whole attention is fixed on 
the object; we are scarcely sensible that there is a medi- 
um which intervenes, and we can hardly be said to perceive 
it, but if there is a flaw in the medium, if we see through 
it but dimly, if the object is imperfectly represented, or if 
we know it to be misrepresented, our attention is immedi- 
ately taken off the object to the medium 

A discourse, then, excells in perspicuity when the subject 
engrosses the attention of the hearer, and the language is 



DESCRIPTIVE STYLE 133 

so little minded by him that he can scarcely be said to be 
conscious it is through the medium he sees the speaker's 
thoughts. " 

The descriptive studies following are of an objective char- 
acter. Care has been exercised in selecting such short and 
easy studies as have one simple picture to portray. Let 
the student form a complete mental image of each of the 
following studies. After careful study and concentration 
of the mind upon it, read your study to some one asking 
them, in turn, to describe to you the picture the reading 
has suggested to them. Practice of this kind will enable 
the pupil to know if he has ability to project mental pic- 
tures into the minds of others. 

Objective studies with one prominent picture are given 
here. Subjective studies with one leading feeling come 
under the step headed Lyrics. 

Experience has proven the objective studies, — pictures, 
and the subjective, — manifesting feeling are most helpful. 



WASHINGTON. 



George "Washington's personal appearance was in harmo- 
ny with his character ; it was a model of manly strength 
and beauty. He was about six feet two inches in height 
and his person well proportioned, — in the earlier part of life, 
rather spare, and never too stout for action and graceful 
movement. The complexion inclined to the florid ; the eyes 
blue and remarkably far apart ; a profusion of brown hair 
was drawn back from the forehead, highly powdered, ac- 
cording to the fashion of the day, and gathered in a bag 
behind. He was scrupulously neat in his dress, and while 
in camp, though he habitually left his tent at sunrise, he 
was usually dressed for the day. Everett. 



134 THE ART OF RENDERING 

JOHN BURNS OF GETTYSBURG. 

Just where the tide of battle turns 

Erect and lonely stood old John Burns. 

How do you think the man was dressed? 

He wore an ancient long buff vest, 

Yellow as saffron — but his best ; 

And buttoned over his manly breast, 

Was a bright blue coat with a rolling collar, 

And large, gilt buttons — size of a dollar ; 

He wore a broad brimmed, bell-crowned hat, 

White as the locks on which it sat. 

But Burns unmindful of jeer and scoff, 

Stood there picking the rebels off — 

With his long, brown rifle and bell-crowned hat, 

And the swallow-tails they were laughing at. 

In fighting the battle, the question's whether 

You'll show a hat that's white, or a feather ! 

Brete Harte. 



JOHN HANCOCK. 

One raw morning in spring, the town militia came to- 
gether before daylight * for training. " A great tall man, 
with a large head and a high, wide brow, their captain, — 
one who had " seen service " , — marshalled them into line, 
numbering but seventy, and bade every man to load his 
piece with powder and ball. " I will order the first man 
shot that runs away, " said he, when some faltered. 

" Don't fire unless fired upon, but if they want to have 
a war, let it begin here. M 

You know what followed ; those farmers and mechanics 
" fired the shot that was heard round the world. " 

Theodore Parker. 



DESCRIPTIVE STYLE 135 



EVANGELINE. 

Somewhat apart from the village, and nearer the Basin 

of Minas, 
Benedict Belief on taine, the wealthiest farmer of Grand-Pre, 
Dwelt on his goodly acres; and with him, directing his 

household, 
Gentle Evangeline lived, his child, and the pride of the 

village. 
Stal worth and stately in form was the man of seventy winters; 
Hearty and hale was he, an oak that is covered with snow- 



White as the snow were his locks, and his cheeks as brown 

as the oak-leaves. 
Fair was she to behold, that maiden of seventeen summers. 
Black were her eyes as the berry that grows on the thorn by 

the wayside, 
Black, yet how softly they gleamed neath the brown shade 

of her tresses! 
Sweet was her breath as the breath of kine that feed in 

the meadows. 
Fairer was she when, on Sunday morn, while the bell from 

its turret 
Sprinkled with holy sounds the air, as the priest with his 

hyssop 
Sprinkles the congregation, and scatters blessings upon them, 
Down the long street she passed, with her chaplet of beads 

and her missal, 
Wearing her Norman cap, and her kirtle of blue, and the 

ear-rings, 
Brought in the olden time from France, and since, as an 

heirloom, 
Handed down from mother to child, through long generations. 
But a celestial brightness — a more ethereal beauty — - 



136 THE ART OF RENDERING 

Shone on her face and encircled her form, when after con- 
fession, 

Homeward serenely she walked with God's benediction 
upon her. 

When she had passed, it seemed like the ceasing of exqui- 
site music. 

H. W. Longfellow. 



MARY. 



Of the new-comers, there was a group over by the south 
wall, consisting of a man, a woman, and a donkey, which 
requires extended notice. The man stood by the animal's 
head, holding a leading-strap. . . . The donkey ate 
leisurely from an armful of green grass, of which there 
was an abundance in the market. In its sleepy content, 
the brute did not admit of disturbance from the bustle and 
clamor about; no more was it mindful of: the woman sitting 
upon its back in a cushioned pillion. An outer robe of 
dull woolen stuff completely covered her person, while a 
white wimple veiled her head and neck 

The sun streamed garishly over the stony face of the 
famous locality, and under its influence Mary, the daughter 
of Joachim, dropped the wimple entirely, and bared her 
head. . . . She was not more than fifteen. Her form, 
voice, and manner belonged to the period of transition from 
girlhood. Her face was perfectly oval, her complexion 
more pale than fair. The nose was faultless ; the lips slight- 
ly parted, were full and ripe, giving to the lines of the 
mouth warmth, tenderness, and trust ; the eyes were blue 
and large, and shaded by drooping lids and long lashes ; 
and, in harmony with all, a flood of golden hair, in the 
style permitted to Jewish brides, fell unconfined down her 
back to the pillion on which she sat. The throat and 



DESCRIPTIVE STYLE 137 

neck had the downy softness sometimes seen, which leaves 
the artist in doubt whether it is an effect of contour or col- 
or. To these charms of feature and person were added 
others more indefinable — an air of purity which only the 
soul can impart, and of abstraction natural to such as think 
of things impalpable. Often, with trembling lips, she raised 
her eyes to heaven, itself not more deeply blue ; often she 
crossed her hands upon her breast, as in adoration and 
prayer ; often she raised her head like one listening eager- 
ly for a calling voice. Now and then, midst his slow utter- 
ance, Joseph turned to look at her, and, catching the ex- 
pression kindling her face as with light, forgot his theme, 
and with bowed head, wondering, plodded on. 
"Ben-Hur. " Lew. Wallace. 



PRISCILLA. 



So through the Plymouth woods John Alden went on 

his errand ; 
Heard, as he drew near the door, the musical voice of 

Priscilla 
Singing the hundredth Psalm, the grand old Puritan anthem, 
Then, as he opened the door, he beheld the form of the 

maiden 
Seated beside her wheel, and the carded wool like a snow-drift 
Piled at her knee, her white hands feeding the ravenous 

spindle, 
While with her foot on the treadle she guided the wheel in 

its motion. 
Open wide on her lap lay the well-worn psalm-book of 

Ainsworth, 
Printed in Amsterdam, the words and the music together, 
Rough-hewn, angular notes, like stones in the wall of a 

churchyard, 



138 THE ART OF RENDERING 

Darkened and overhung by the running vines of the verses. 

Such was the book from whose pages she sang the old Pu- 
ritan anthem, 

She, the Puritan girl, in the solitude of the forest, 

Making the humble house and the modest apparel of home- 
spun 

Beautiful with her beauty, and rich with the wealth of her 
being ! 

" Courtship of Miles Standish. " H. W. Longfellow. 



ROMOLA. 



* Ah, you are come back, Moso. It is well. We have 
wanted nothing. M 

The voice came from the farther end of a long, spacious 
room, surrounded with shelves, on which books and anti- 
quities were arranged in scrupulous order. Here and there 
on separate stands in front of the shelves, were placed a 
beautiful feminine torso ; a headless statue, with an uplift- 
ed muscular arm wielding a bloodless sword ; rounded, dim- 
pled, infantine limbs severed from the trunk, invited the 
lips to kiss the cold marble ; some well preserved Roman 
busts ; and two or three vases from Magna Grecia. A large 
table in the centre was covered with antique bronze lamps 
and small vessels in dark pottery. The color of these ob- 
jects was chiefly pale or somber ; the vellum bindings, 
with their deep ridged backs, gave little relief to the mar- 
ble, livid with long burial : the once splendid patch of car- 
pet at the farther end of the room had long been worn to 
dimness ; the dark bronzes wanted sunlight upon them to 
bring out their tinge of green, and the sun was not yet high 
enough to send gleams of brightness through the narrow 
windows that looked on the Via di Bardi. 



DESCRIPTIVE STYLE 139 

The only spot of bright color was made by the hair of 
a tall maiden of seventeen or eighteen, who was standing 
before a carved leggio, or reading desk, such as is often 
seen in the choirs of Italian churches. The hair was 
of reddish gold color, enriched by an unbroken small ripple, 
such as may be seen in the sunset clouds on grandest au- 
tumnal evenings. It was confined by a black fillet above 
her ears, from which it rippled forward again, and made a 
natural veil for her neck above her square-cut gown of 
black serge. Her eyes were bent on a large volume placed 
before her : one long white hand rested on the reading desk; 
and the other clasped the back of her father's chair. 

The blind father sat with head uplifted and turned a 
little aside towards his daughter, as if he were looking at 
her. His delicate paleness, set off by the black velvet cap, 
which surmounted his drooping white hair, made all the 
more perceptible the likeness between his aged features and 
those of the young maiden, whose cheeks were also without 
any tinge of the rose. There was the same refinement of 
brow and nostril in both, counterbalanced by a firm mouth 
and powerful chin, which gave an expression of proud te- 
nacity and latent impetuousness ; an expression carried out 
in the backward poise of the girl's head, and the grand line 
of her neck and shoulders. It was a type of face of which 
one could not venture to say whether it would inspire love 
or only that unwilling admiration which is mixed with 
dread ; the question must be decided by the eyes, which 
often seem charged with a more direct message from the soul. 
But the eyes of the father had long been silent, and the 
eyes of the daughter were bent on the Latin pages of 
" Politian's Miscellanea " from which she was reading 
aloud. 

George Eliot. 



140 THE ART OF RENDERING 



SENECA LAKE. 

On thy fair bosom, silver lake, 

The white swan spreads his snowy sail, 

And round his breast the ripples break, 
As down he bears before the gale. 

On thy fair bosom, waveless stream, 

The dipping paddle echoes far, 
And flashes in the moonlight gleam, 

And bright reflects the polar star. 

The waves along thy pebbly shore, 

A s blows the north wind, heave their foam, 

And curl around the dashing oar, 
As late the boatman hies him home. 

How sweet, at set of sun, to view 
Thy golden mirror spreading wide, 

And see the mist of mantling blue 
Float round the distant mountain's side ! 

At midnight hour, as shines the moon, 

A sheet of silver spreads below, 
And swift she cuts, at highest noon, 

Light clouds, like wreaths of purest snow. 

On thy fair bosom, silver lake, 
Oh ! I could ever sweep the oar, 

When early birds at morning wake, 
And evening tells us toil is o'er. 

James G. Percival. 



DESCRIPTIVE STYLE 141 



THE SNOW ANGEL. 

The sleigh bells danced that winter night ; 
Old Brattleboro rang with glee ; 
The windows overflowed with light ; 
Joy ruled each hearth and Christmas tree, 
But to one the bells and mirth were naught : 
His soul with deeper joy was fraught. 
He waited until the guests were gone 
He waited to dream his dream alone ; 
And the night wore on. 

Alone he stands in the silent night ; , 
He piles the snow in the village square ; 
With spade for a chisel, a statue white 
From the crystal quarry rises fair. 
No light save the stars to guide his hand, 
But the image obeys his soul's command. 
The sky is draped with fleecy lawn, 
The stars grow pale in the early dawn, 
But the lad toils on. 



And lo ! in the morn the people came 

To gaze at the wondrous vision there ; 

And they call it " The Angel, " divining its name, 

For it came in silence and unaware. 

It seemed no mortal hand had wrought 

The uplifted face of prayerful thought ; 

But its features wasted beneath the sun ; 

Its life went out ere the day was done; 

And the lad dreamed on. 



142 THE ART OF RENDERING 

And his dream was this : In the years to be 
I will carve the Angel in lasting stone ; 
In another land beyond the sea 
I will toil in darkness, I will dream alone, 
While others sleep I will find a way 
Up through the night to the light of day. 
There's nothing desired beneath star or sun 
Which patient genius has not won. 
And the boy toiled on. 



The years go by. He has wrought with might. 
He has gained renown in a land of art ; 
But the thought inspired that Christmas night 
Still kept its place in the sculptor's heart ; 
And the dream of the boy that melted away 
In the light of the sun that winter day, 
Is embodied at last in enduring stone, 
Snow Angel in marble — his purpose won ; 



And the man toils on. 



Wallace Bruce. 



KAATSKILL ON THE HUDSON. 

Whoever has made a voyage up the Hudson, must re- 
member the Kaatskill mountains. They are a dismembered 
branch of the great Appalachian family, and are seen far 
away to the west of the river, swelling up to a noble height, 
and lording it over the surrounding country. Every change 
of season, every change of weather, indeed, every hour of 
the day produces some change in the magical lines and 
siiapes of these mountains ; and they are regarded by the 
good wives far and near as perfect barometers. When 



DESCRIPTIVE STYLE 143 

the weather is fair and settled, they are clothed in blue and 
purple, and print their bold outlines on the clear, evening 
sky ; but sometimes when the rest of the landscape is cloud- 
less, they will gather a hood of gray vapor about their sum- 
mits, which in the last rays of the setting sun, will glow and 
light up like a crown of glory. 

Washington Irving. 



EL CAPITAN. 



The most impassive granite wonder in the Yosemite Val- 
ley is the great rock, El Capitan, gray in the shadow, and 
white in the sun. Standing out a vast cube with a half 
mile front, a half mile side, three-fifths of a mile high, and 
seventy-three hundred feet above the sea, it is almost the 
crowning triumph of solid geometry. Well did the Indians 
name him Tu-touch-ah-nu-lah, — Great Chief of the 
Valley. When you reach the valley he towers above you 
in the left. He grows grander and more solemn every step 
of the way. When you stand beneath him he blots out the 
world ; when you stand near the base he blots out the sky. 
Get as far from him as you can, he never diminishes. He 
follows you as you go. He is the overwhelming presence 
of the place. You never tire seeing the eastern sunshine 
move down the front like a smile on a human face. You 
never tire seeing the great shadows roll out across the broad 
meadows as the sun descends and rises like the tide in the 
Fnndy's Bay, till the valley is half filled with night, and 
the tips of the tall trees are dipped like pens in ink. You 
never weary watching a light from a moon you cannot see, 
as it silvers the cornices and brightens the dusky front, as 
if wizards were painting their way down without a stage or 
scaffold. A dark spot starts out in the light. It turns in- 



144 THE ART OF RENDERING 

to a great cedar. Pines that stand about the base resem- 
ble shrubs along a garden wall, though they are two hun- 
dred feet high. A few men have crept out to the eaves 
of El Capitan, looked over, crept back again. Little white 
clouds sail silently toward the lofty eaves and are gone as 
if to a dovecote in a garret. And yet the earthquake 
in 1872 rocked him like a cradle. The clocks in the val- 
ley all stopped as though, when El Capitan was moved, 
then " time shall be no more. " 

Bayard Taylor. 



MORNING. 



As we proceeded, the timid approach of twilight became 
more perceptible ; the intense blue of the sky began to sof- 
ten ; the smaller stars, like little children, went first to rest ; 
the sister beams of the Pleiades soon melted together ; but 
the bright constellations of the west and north remained un- 
changed. Steadily the wondrous transfiguration went on. 
Hands of angels hidden from mortal eyes shifted the scen- 
ery of the heavens ; the glories of night dissolved into the 
glories of the dawn. The blue sky turned more softly gray; 
the great watch-stars shut up their holy eyes ; the east be- 
gan to kindle. Faint streaks of purple soon blushed a- 
long the sky : the whole celestial concave was filled with 
the inflowing tides of the morning light, which came pour- 
ing down from above in one great ocean of radiance ; till at 
length, as we reached the Blue Hills, a flash of purple fire 
blazed out from above the horizon, and turned the dewy 
tear-drops of flower and leaf into rubies and diamonds. In 
a few seconds the everlasting gates of the morning were 
thrown wide open, and the lord of day, arrayed in glories 
too severe for the gaze of man, began his state. 

Edward Everett. 



DESCRIPTIVE STYLE 145 

NIGHT. 

A mysterious darkness creeps over the face of nature ; 
the beautiful scenes of earth are slowly fading, one by one. 

He raises his gaze toward heaven ; and lo ! a silver cres- 
cent of light, clear and beautiful hanging in the western sky, 
meets his astonished gaze. The young moon charms his 
vision, and leads him upward to her bright attendants 
which are now stealing, one by one, from out the deep blue 
sky. The solitary gazer bows, wonders and adores. 

The hours glide by ; the silver moon is gone ; the stars 
are rising, slowly ascending the heights of heaven and sol- 
emnly sweeping downward in the stillness of the night. 
A faint streak of rosy light is seen in the east ; it brightens; 
the stars fade, the planets are extinguished ; the eye is fixed 
in mute astonishment on the glowing splendor, till the first 
rays of the returning sun dart their radiance on the earth. 

O. M. Mitchell. 

THE OAK. 

Beware a speedy friend, the Arabian said, 

And wisely was it he advised distrust: 

The flower that blossoms earliest fades the first. 

Look at yon Oak that lifts its stately head, 

And dallies with the autumnal storm, whose rage 

Tempests the great sea- waves ; slowly it rose, 

Slowly its strength increased through many an age 

And timidly did its light leaves disclose, 

As doubtful of the spring, their palest green. 

They to the summer cautiously expand, 

And by the warmer sun and season bland 

Matured, their foliage in the grove is seen, 

When the bare forest by the wintry blast is swept, 

Still lingering on the boughs the last. Sotjthey. 



146 THE ART OF RENDERING 



AN IDYL. 

I saw her first on a day in spring, 

By the side of a stream, as I fished along, 

And loitered to hear the robins sing, 

And guessed at the secret they told in song. 

The apple-blossoms, so white and red, 

Were mirrored beneath in the streamlet's flow ; 

And the sky was blue far overhead, 

And far in the depths of the brook below. 

I Jay half hid by a mossy stone 

And looked in the water for flower and sky. 
I heard a step — I was not alone : 

And a vision of loveliness met my eye. 

I saw her come to the other side, 

And the apple-blossoms were not more fair ; 
She stooped to gaze in the sunlit tide, 

And her eyes met mine in the water there. 

She stopped in timid and mute surprise, 
And that look might have lasted till now, I ween; 

But, modestly dropping her dove like eyes, 
She turned her away to the meadow green. 

I stood in wonder and rapture lost 

At her slender form and her step so free, 

At her raven locks by the breezes tossed, 

As she kicked up her heels in the air for glee. 

The apple-blossoms are withered now, 

But the sky, and the meadow, andstream,are there; 
And whenever I wander that way I vow 
That some day I'll buy me that little black mare. 

C. G. Buck. 



DESCRIPTIVE STYLE 147 

THE PRIMROSE OF THE ROCK. 

A rock there is whose lonely front 

The passing traveller slights ; 
Yet there the glow-worms hang their lamps 

Like stars, at various heights ; 
And one coy Primrose to that Rock 

The vernal breeze invites. 

What hideous warfare hath been waged, 

What kingdoms overthrown, 
Since first I spied that Primrose-tuft 

And marked it for my own 
A lasting link in Nature's chain 

From highest heaven let down ! 

The flowers, still faithful to the stems, 

Their fellowship renew ; 
The stems are faithful to the root, 

That worketh out of \>iew ; 
And to the rock the root adheres 

In every fibre true. 

Wordsworth. 



THE VIOLET. 



The violet in her green-wood bower, 

Where birchen boughs with hazels mingle, 

May boast itself the fairest flower 

In glen, or copse, or forest dingle. 

Though fair her gems of azure hue, 

Beneath the dew-drop's weight reclining, 

I've seen an eye of lovelier hue, 

More sweet through wat'ry lustre shining. 

Scott. 



148 THE ART OF RENDERING 

THE DANDELION. 

Dear common flower, that grow'st beside the way, 

Fringing the dusty road with harmless gold, 

First pledge of blithesome May, 

Which children pluck, and, full of pride, uphold, 

High hearted buccaneers, o'er joyed that they 

An El Dorado in the grass have found, 

Which not the rich earth's ample round 

May match in wealth, thou art more dear to me 

Than all the prouder summer blooms may be. 

How like a prodigal doth nature seem, 

When thou, for all thy gold; so common art I 

Thou teachest me to deem 

More sacredly of every human heaTt, 

Since then reflects in joy its scanty gleam 

Of heaven, and could some wondrous secret show, 

Did we but pay the love we owe. 

And with a child's undoubting wisdom look, 

On all these pages of God's book. 

Lowell. 

FLOWERS. 

Ere yet our course was graced with social trees 
It lacked not old remains of hawthorn bowers, 
Where small birds warbled to their paramours; 
And, earlier still, was heard the hum of bees ; 
I saw them ply their harmless robberies, 
And caught the fragrance which the sundry flowers, 
Fed by the stream with soft perpetual showers, 
Plenteously yielded to the fragrant breeze. 
There bloomed the strawberry of the wilderness ; 
The trembling eyebright showed her sapphire blue, 
The thyme her purple, like the blush of Even ; 



DESCRIPTIVE STYLE 149 

And if the breath of some to no caress 
Invited, forth they peeped so fair to view, 
All kinds alike seemed favorites of Heaven. 

WORDSWORTH. 



THE BUTTERFLY. 

Fve watch'd you now a full half -hour, 
Self -poised upon that yellow flower ; 
And, little Butterfly ! indeed 
I know not if you sleep or feed. 
How motionless ! — not frozen seas 
More motionless ! and then 
What joy awaits you, when the breeze 
Hath found you out among the trees, 
And calls you forth again ! 

This plot of orchard-ground is ours : 
My trees they are, my Sister's flowers ; 
Here rest your wings when they are weary ; 
Here lodge as in a sanctuary ! 
Come often to us, fear no wrong ; 
Sit near us on the bough ! 
We'll talk of sunshine and of song, 
And summer days, when we were young ; 
Sweet childish days, that were as long 
As twenty days are now. 

Wordsworth. 



LICHENS AND MOSSES. 

Lichen and mosses ( though these last in their luxuri- 
ance are deep and rich as herbage, yet both for the most 
part humblest of the green things that live) — how of these ? 



150 THE ART OF RENDERING 

Meek creatures ! the first mercy of the earth, veiling with 
hushed softness its dintless rocks; creatures full of pity, 
covering with strange and tender honor the scarred disgrace 
of ruin, — laying quiet fingers on the trembling stones, to 
teach them rest. No words, that I know of, will say what 
these mosses are. None are delicate enough, none perfect 
enough, none rich enough. How is one to tell of the round- 
ed bosses of furred and beaming green — the starred divi- 
sions of rubied bloom, fine-filmed, as if the Rock Spirits 
could spin porphyry as we do glass — the traceries of in- 
tricate silver, and fringes of amber, lustrous, arborescent, 
burnished through every fibre into fitful brightness and 
glossy traverses of silken change, yet all subdued and pen- 
sive, and framed for simplest, sweetest offices of grace. 
They will not be gathered, like the flowers, for chaplet or 
love-token ; but of these the wild bird will make its nest, 
and the wearied child his pillow. 

And, as the earth's first mercy, so they aie its last gift to 
us. When all other service is vain, from plant and tree, 
the soft mosses and gray lichen take up their watch by the 
headstone. The woods, the blossoms, the gift-bearing grasses, 
have done their parts for a time, but these do service for^ 
ever. Trees for the builder's yard, flowers for the bride's 
chamber, corn for the granary, moss for the grave. 

Yet as in one sense the humblest, in another they are 
the most honored of the earth-children. Unfading, as mo- 
tionless, the worm frets them not, and the autumn wastes 
not. Strong in lowliness, they neither blanch in heat 
nor pine in frost. To them, slow-fingered, constant-hearted, 
is entrusted the weaving of the dark, eternal, tapestries of 
the hills; to them, slow-penciled, iris-dyed, the tender f ram- 
ing of their endless imagery. Sharing the stillness of the 
unimpassioned rock, they share also its endurance; and 
while the winds of departing spring scatter the white haw- 



DESCRIPTIVE STYLE 151 

thorn blossom like drifted snow, and summer dims on the 
parched meadow the drooping of its cowslip-gold, — far a- 
bove, among the mountains, the silver lichen spots rest, star- 
like, on the stone, and the gathering orange-stain upon the 
edge of yonder western peak reflects the sunsets of a thou- 
sand years. 

John Rtjskin. 



LAKE OTSEGO. 

On all sides, wherever the eye turned, nothing met it 
but the mirror-like surface of the lake, the placid view of 
heaven, and the dense setting of woods. So rich and fleecy 
were the outlines of the forest, that scarce an opening could 
be seen : the whole visible earth, from the rounded moun- 
tain-top to the water's edge, presenting one unvaried line of 
unbroken verdure. As if vegetation were not satisfied with 
a triumph so complete, the trees overhung the lake itself, 
shooting out towards the light ; and there were miles along 
its eastern shore where a boat might have pulled beneath 
the branches of dark Rembrandt-looking hemlocks, quiver- 
ing aspens, and melancholy pines. In a word, the hand of 
man had never yet defaced or deformed any part of this 
native scene, which lay bathed in the sunlight, a glorious 
picture of affluent forest grandeur, softened by the balmi- 
ness of June, and relieved by the beautiful variety afford- 
ed by the presence of so broad an expanse of water. 

Cooper. 



THE LOVELY SHELL. 

See what a lovely shell, 
Small and pure as a pearl, 
Lying close to my foot, 



152 THE ART OF RENDERING 

Frail, but a work divine, 
Made so fairily well 
With delicate spire and whorl, 
How exquisitely minute, 
A^miracle of design ! 

What is it ? a learned man 
Could give it a clumsy name. 
Let him name it who can, 
The beauty would be the same. 

The tiny cell is forlorn, 

Void of the little living will 

That made it stir on the shore. 

Did he stand at the diamond door 

Of his house in a rainbow frill ? 

Did he push, when he was uncurl'd, 

A golden foot or a fairy horn 

Thro' his dim water- world ? Tennyson. 



ON THE ST. LAWRENCE RIVER. 

Faintly as tolls the evening chime, 
Our voices keep tune and our oars keep time. 
Soon as the woods on the shore look dim, 
We'll sing at St. Ann's our parting hymn. 
Row, brothers, row, the stream runs fast, 
The Rapids are near, and the daylight's past ! 

Why should we yet our sail unfurl ? 
There is not a breath the blue wave to curl ! 
But when the wind blows off the shore, 
Oh ! sweetly we'll rest our weary oar. 
Blow, breezes, blow, the stream runs fast, 
The Rapids are near, and the daylight's past. 



DESCRIPTIVE STYLE 153 

Utawas' tide ! this trembling moon 
Shall see us float over thy surges soon. 
Saint of this green Isle ! hear our prayers. 
Oh ! grant us cool heavens and favoring airs. 
Blow, breezes, blow, the stream runs fast, 
The Rapids are near, and the daylight's past ! 

Moore. 

NIGHT. 

The sky is overcast 
With a continuous cloud of texture close, 
Heavy and wan, all whitened by the Moon, 
Which through that veil is indistinctly seen, 
A dull, contracted circle, yielding light 
So feebly spread, that not a shadow falls, 
Checkering the ground — from rock, plant, tree or 
Tower, at length a pleasant instantaneous gleam 
Startles the pensive traveler while he treads 
His lonesome path, with unobserving eye 
Bent earthwards ; he looks up — the clouds are split 
Asunder : — and above his head he sees 
The clear Moon, and the glory of the heavens. 
There, in a black-blue vault she sails along, 
Followed by multitudes of stars, that, small 
And sharp, and bright, along the dark abyss 
Drive as she drives : how fast they wheel away, 
Yet vanish not ! — the wind is in the tree. 
But they are silent ; — still they roll along 
Immeasurably distant ; and the vault, 
Built round by those white clouds, enormous clouds, 
Still deepens its unfathomable depth. 
At length the Vision closes ; and the mind, 
Not undisturbed by the delight it feels, which 
Slowly settles into peaceful calm. Wordsworth. 



154 THE ART OF RENDERING 

A COTTAGE. 

I knew by the smoke, that so gracefully curled 

Above the green elms, that a cottage was near ; 

And I said, * If there's peace to be found in the world, 
A heart that was humble might hope for it here ! ' 

It was noon, and on flowers that languished around 
In silence reposed the voluptuous bee ; 

Every leaf was at rest, and I heard not a sound 

But the woodpecker tapping the hollow beech-tree. 

And ' Here in this lone little wood, ' I exclaimed, 

With a maid who was lovely to soul and to eye. 
Who would blush when I praised her, and weep if 1 
blamed, 
Plow blest could I live, and how calm could I die ! 

Moore. 



THE FIRE-FLY. 

This morning, when the earth and sky 
Were burning with the blush of spring, 

I saw thee not, thou humble fly ! 
Nor thought upon thy gleaming wing. 

But now the skies have lost their hue, 
And sunny lights no longer play, 

I see thee, and I bless thee too 
For sparkling o'er the dreary way. 

Oh ! let me hope that thus for me, 

When life and love shall lose their bloom, 

Some milder joys may come, like thee, 
To light, if not to warm the gloom ! 

Moore. 



DESCRIPTIVE STYLE 155 

A WATER-FOWL. 

Mark how the feathered tenants of the flood, 

With grace of motion that might scarcely seem 

Inferior to angelical, prolong 

Their curious pastime ! shaping in mid air 

(And sometimes with ambitious wing that soars 

High as the level oE the mountain-tops ) 

A circuit ampler than the lake beneath — 

Their o wn domain ; but ever, while intent 

On tracing and retracing that large round, 

Their jubilant activity evolves 

Hundreds of curves and circlets, to and fro, 

Upward and downward, progress intricate 

Yet unperplexed, as if one spirit swayed 

Their indefatigable flight. 'Tis done — 

Ten times, or more, I fancied it had ceased ; 

But lo ! the vanished company again 

Ascending : they approach — I hear their wings, 

Faint, faint at first ; and then an eager sound, 

Past in a moment — and as faint again ! 

They tempt the sun to sport amid their plumes : 

They tempt the water, or the gleaming ice, 

To show them a fair image ; 'tis themselves, 

Their own fair forms, upon the glimmering plain, 

Painted more soft and fair as they descend 

Almost to touch ; — then up again aloft, 

Up with a sally and a flash of speed, 

As if they scorned both resting-place and rest ! 

mmm ^^ mmts ^^ Mmmm ^ mm , Wordsworth 

THE HAWK. 

Who but hails the sight with pleasure 
When the wings of genius rise 
Their ability to measure 



156 THE ART OF RENDERING 

With great enterprise ; 
But in man was ne'er such daring 
As yon Hawk exhibits, pairing 
His brave spirit with the war in 

The stormy skies! 

Mark him, how his power he uses, 
Lays it by, at will resumes ! 
Mark, ere for his haunt he chooses 

Clouds and utter glooms ! 
There, he wheels in downward mazes 
Sunward now his flight he raises, 
Catches fire, as seems, and blazes 

With uninjured plumes ! 

Wordsworth. 



THE GREEN LINNET. 

Beneath these fruit-tree boughs that shed 
Their snow-white blossoms on my head 
With brightest sunshine round me spread 

Of spring's unclouded weather, 
In this sequestered nook how sweet 
To sit upon my orchard-seat ! 
And birds and flowers once more to greet, 

My last year's friends together. 

One have I marked, the happiest guest 
In all this covert of the blest : 
Hail to Thee, far above the rest 

In joy of voice and pinion ! 
Thou, Linnet ! in thy green array, 
Presiding Spirit here to-day, 
Dost lead the revels of the May ; 

And this is thy dominion. 



DESCRIPTIVE STYLE 157 

While birds, and butterflies and flowers, 
Make all one band of paramours, 
Thou, ranging up and down the bowers, 

Art sole in thy employment : 
A Life, a Presence like the Air, 
Scattering thy gladness without care 
Too blest with any one to pair ; 

Thyself thy own enjoyment. 

Amid yon tuft of hazel trees, 
That twinkle to the gusty breeze, 
Behold him perched in ecstacies, 

Yet seeming still to hover ; 
There ! where the flutter of his wings 
Upon his back and body flings 
Shadows and sunny glimmerings, 

That cover him all over. 

My dazzled sight he oft deceives, 
A brother of the dancing leaves ; 
Then flits, and from the cottage-eaves 

Pours forth his song in gushes, 
As if by that exulting strain 
He mocked and treated with disdain 
The voiceless Form he choose to feign, 

While fluttering in the bushes. 

Wordsworth. 



THE SHIP. 



She comes majestic with her swelling sails 
The gallant Ship ; along her watery way 
Homeward she drives before the favoring gales. 
Now flirting at their length the streamers play, 
And now they ripple with the ruffling breeze. 



158 THE ART OF RENDERING 

Hark to the sailors' shouts ! the rocks rebound, 
Thundering in echoes to the joyful sound. 
Long have they voyaged o'er the distant seas : 
And what a heart-delight they feel at last, 
So many toils, so many dangers past, 
To view the port desired, he only knows 
Who on the stormy deep for many a day 
Hath tost, aweary of his watery way, 
And watch'd, all anxious, every wind that blows. 

Southey. 



THE SPINNING WHEEL. 

Swiftly turn the murmuring wheel ! 
Night has brought the welcome hour 
When the weary fingers feel 
Help, as if from fairy power ; 
Dewy night o'ershades the ground ; 
Turn the swift wheel round and round ! 
Now, beneath the starry sky, 
Couch the widely-scattered sheep ; 
Ply the pleasant labor, ply ! 
For the spindle, while they sleep, 
Runs with speed more smooth and fine, 
Gathering up a trustier line. 
Short lived likings may be bred 
By a glance from fickle eyes ; 
But true love is like the thread 
Which the kindly wool supplies, 
When the flocks are all at rest 
Sleeping on the mountain's breast. 

Wordsworth. 



DESCRIPTIVE STYLE 159 

RAINBOW FALLS IN WATKINS GLEN. 

Watkins Glen consists properly of a number of glens or 
sections rising one above another, forming a series of rocky 
arcades, galleries and grottoes, subterranean at times, and 
again widening out into vast amphitheatres. It comprises 
a superficial area of nearly five hundred acres ; its general 
course is east and west ; its tortuous length extends over 
three miles, and its total ascent to the summit of the moun- 
tain above is eight hundred feet. This Great Natural 
Wonder is located at the head of the beautiful Seneca Lake, 
where is presented a charming combination picture of glen, 
mountain, lake and valley. 

Triple Cascade and Rainbow Falls is thought by many 
to be the finest in the glen. As its name indicates, it is 
formed of three portions, one above another, each different 
in form from the others and making a beautiful combina- 
tion. Directly opposite the Triple Cascade a little brook 
leaps over the brow of the great cliff nearly four hundred 
feet high, down into the glen, trickling over the irregular 
surface of the rock until it reaches a point thirty feet above 
the footpath, where it falls on a projecting rock, the edge 
of which is curved outward to form a shelf, this edgeorshelf 
is in a crescent form. The water descends in a myriad of 
tiny threads and drops, forming a sparkling crystal veil. 
While standing here and looking out through the misty 
curtain, the novelty of the position and the peculiar beauty 
that the radiant raindrops impart to everything viewed 
through them, fill us with wonder. It is beautiful beyond 
description. In the afternoon ; when fair weather prevails, 
the rays of the sun fall into the gorge. The enraptured 
visitor looking through the veil may behold two most beau- 
tiful rainbows, a primary and a secondary, a sight that once 
enjoyed can never be forgotten. 



160 THE ART OF RENDERING 

FIFTH STEP IN RENDERING. 
FORMING PICTURES. 

In this step the individual characters, scenes, situa- 
tions and objects found in selections to be rendered 
should be treated as directed in the Descriptive Style, 
with all pictures of the study combined into a composite 
whole, with scenes and characters, properly placed as to 
rank, and with effective background and lights. 

In working up the following studies, first gather in 
the full meaning of the selection : and often as much 
thought and study may be given to the reading of a 
study as the author has given in writing it. In such 
a case it may be said : " Of equal honor with him who 
writes a grand poem is he who reads it grandly, " 
After securing a full comprehension of the study, its 
purpose, aim and UNITY, divide it into acts and 
scenes and action cf the characters. Picture the whole 
as if on a large canvas. Become familiar with it so 
as to tell it in your own language. Your fancy may 
add some little details or slight some unimportant points. 

Place in a high light the central idea even as the 
photographer focuses his camera on the point of chief 
interest. He may focus either on the person or the back- 
ground. The result is governed by the focus. In ten- 
dering, distinguish between essentials and accidentals. 
Let all lend itself to the essential, the unity. Giving 
essentials prominence is strength : accidentals, weakness. 



CULTURE OF THE IMAGINATION 161 

It has been said, " Every one is mentally Consumptive 
whose powers of imagination are weak, for fancy is the 
lungs of the mind. * 

The Imagination, as well as the other great factors of the 
mind, Memory, Reason etc. may be so cultivated as to be of 
most practical value and to afford aesthetic pleasure as well. 
Through the culture of the Imagination is found a mighty 
means of training individuals from the condition of animal 
nature to that of spirit. Through its culture benevolent 
feelings and broad sympathies are developed. It is a well 
known fact that artists along the various lines are, as a class, 
most benevolent. Through an awakened imagination it is 
possible to feel, really for the unfortunate, to take their place, 
assume such character and act it. On the other hand the 
people who astonish with bluntness, selfishness and cruelty, 
because of feeble imaginative powers are unable to go out 
of self and take another person's place, but are self-centered. 

This precious faculty, the Imagination, should be culti- 
vated rather than repressed or allowed to run wild. 
When properly trained, it becomes an aid in quickening 
all the other mental faculties, and whipping the naturally 
sluggish brain into action. 

The material for the Imagination is held by Memory. 
Memory through the aid of Perception collects and holds 
the images. The Imagination rearranges this material to 
please the taste or fancy of the individuality. A per- 
son with small imaginative powers represents the bare image 
as memory holds it — the exact facts. A person with a 
large, active imagination would rearrange the facts, give 
effective touches here and there, expressions which are 
the choice of his own soul ; so when the image reaches the 
attention of the listener it is a new creation, a child of the 
speaker's personality, breathing with his own life. 

The mental action of the person who presents the exact 



162 THE ART OF RENDERING 

image or impression, just as he saw it, may be likened to a 
photographer who makes his exposure haphazard, taking in 
all detail with realistic fidelity, the unsightly and beautiful. 

The mental action of the person who takes into his mind 
the exact image and turns it over, selecting and rejecting to 
please his own fancy, may recreate from his own personality 
( always keeping within the bounds of truth ) that which is 
original and colored with his individuality. The expression 
may be made artistic even as a painting bya master who has 
selected only that in harmony with his theme, finishing all 
with touches of the ideal rather than the exactness of the 
real. The impression made on the mind of the listener by 
the realistic is a feeling of having been annoyed by much 
that is uninteresting, while the impression made by the ar- 
tistic is most gratifying and lasting. 

The speaker with bare material facts tires and confuses 
the mind of the listener. The speaker who possesses the 
magical power of entering into the realm of the ideal, and 
as he appeals to the ideal, charms and entrances the listener. 

There are three distinct classes of readers and speakers. 
The most tedious — the least interesting is the speaker who 
gives words simply. The second class is more entertaining 
and is able to hold the attention of his listeners. He pre- 
sents ideas instead of words and creates realistic, well-defin- 
ed pictures. He gives much that is satisfying. The third 
gives that which is the artistic creation of his own mind 
and heart. With a noble personality, he charms and fas- 
cinates and gives that which cannot be forgotten. The last 
named gives the most for he gives with his reading, himself. 

The development of all the powers of the mind, Imag- 
ination no less than Reason, depends on judicious exercise. 

Ample exercise for the culture of the Imagination of a 
vigorous and wholesome character may be found in the 
broad fields of Nature, Literature, Music, Art and Religion. 



CULTURE OF THE IMAGINATION 163 

The mind should search for its ideal material to use in 
building its own creations. Search for images in all forms 
of Life, Nature, Literature, Music, Art, Religion. 

The memory should be exact in its action. The greater 
the store of ideals, images, memory gems, the richer the ex- 
perience, the greater will be the resources at hand for new 
creations and the more expert will become the faculty of 
the Imagination in using its store. 

Train the mind to reflect. Create ideal scenes and char- 
acters. Think out such matters definitely, even as an art- 
ist. Give careful attention to the minute as well as the 
great. 

In rendering the writings of others, let the imagination 
play its part that you may not read words, but give ideas, 
even experiences, participating heartily in that rendered. 

Study that which is vast and sublime and that which is 
delicate and ethical. 

Study the characters portrayed by Dickens, Shakespeare 
and other writers. Become familiar with the notable char- 
acters of the Bible and History. Meditate on models of ex- 
cellence till you feel the influence and inspiration of their 
living presence. 

Literary companions afford excellent entertainment and 
profit when through fancy they are endowed with life, so 
in this way one need never lack for companionship. 

With a well trained Imagination, there is little dan- 
ger of IMITA TION. The reader has such wealth of 
his own ideas there is no room for borrowed ways. 
The listener feels there is an abundance ', a wealth in 
a personality that can give lavishly. 

With well-defined pictures living and glowing in the 
mind at the moment of utterance, it is not uncertain that 
something may take place quite as positive and wonderful 



164 THE ART OF RENDERING 

as wireless telegraphy, even mental photography. With 
thought, which some tell us is the greatest force in the uni- 
verse, there seems to be power in certain minds to flash an 
idea or picture into the minds of others as it is in his own 
mind, making the listener conscious of his exact thought 
and feeling. On the other hand, it is not difficult to detect 
hollow words with no ideas back of them. Such words are 
vacant and empty like the stare of an idiot. When such 
a reader arises and calls for attention the minds of his 
listeners are invited to a feast only to be deluded with empty 



The art of having something to give may be learned, and 
the host who takes pains to prepare his repast and serve it 
with a lavish hand may spread a feast to delight and satisfy 
the minds of his guests, a feast of good things not soon to 
be forgotten. 

Through the culture of the Imagination comes the much 
coveted grace of self-f orgetf ulness, so necessary in the public 
speaker. As the attention is fixed on the ideas to be given 
instead of self and what the audience may think, in giving 
the undivided attention to the thought is a refuge for self 
to hide behind the thought, gaining ease and freedom. 

The feelings play an important part in stimulating the 
imagination. We may never go beyond what we have ex- 
perienced in real feeling, yet we may so associate what is 
similar making it near experience. 

Under the sublime and beautiful, one may rise into the 
realm of the ideal. 

According to Sully we may classify the Imagination as 
Constructive, Receptive, Creative. Constructive — Repro- 
duction of images. Ability to elaborate new images. 
Receptive — as in reading ( studying ) a poem. 
Creative — as the poet creating the poem, — complex. 
Aids : Knowing things. Acquiring knowledge. Emotions. 



FORMING PICTURES 165 

KING ROBERT OF SICILY. 

Robert of Sicily, brother of Pope Urbane 
And Valmond, Emperor of Allemaine, 
Appareled in magnificent attire, 
With retinue of many a knight and squire, 
On St. John's eve, at vespers, proudly sat 
And heard the priests chant the Magnificat. 
And as he listened, o'er and o'er again 
Repeated like a burden or refrain, 
He caught the words, " Deposuit potentes 
De sede et exaltavit hitmiles " ; 
And slowly lifting up his kingly head, 
He to a learned clerk beside him said, 
" What mean these words? " The clerk made an- 
swer meet, 
" He has put down the mighty from their seat, 
And has exalted them of low degree. " 
Thereat King Robert muttered scornfully, 
" 'Tis well that such seditious words are sung 
Only by priests and in the Latin tongue ; 
For unto priests and people be it known, 
There is no power can push me from my throne I " 
And leaning back, he yawned and fell asleep, 
Lulled by the chant monotonous and deep. 

When he awoke it was already night ; 
The church was empty, and there was no light, 
Save where the lamps that glimmered few and faint, 
Lighted a little space before some saint. 
He started from his seat and gazed around, 
But saw no living thing and heard no sound. 
He groped towards the door, but it was locked ; 
He cried aloud, and listened, and then knocked, 
And uttered awf ul threatenings and complaints, 



166 THE ART OF RENDERING 

And imprecations upon men and saints. 

The sounds re-echoed from the roof and walls 

As if dead priests were laughing in their stalls. 

At length the sexton, hearing from without 
The tumult of the knocking and the shout, 
And thinking thieves were in the house of prayer, 
Came with his lantern, asking," Who is there? " 
Half choked with rage, King Robert fiercely said, 
" Open : 't is I, the King ! Art thou afraid ? " 
The frightened sexton, muttering, with a curse, 
" This is some drunken vagabond, or worse ! " 
Turned the great key and flung the portal wide ; 
A man rushed by him at a single stride, 
Haggard, half naked, without hat or cloak, 
Who neither turned, nor looked at him, nor spoke, 
But leaped into the blackness of the night 
And vanished like a spectre from his sight. 

Robert of Sicily, brother of Pope Urbane 
And Valmond, Emperor of Allemaine, 
Despoiled of his magnificent attire, 
Bareheaded, breathless, and besprent with mire, 
With sense of wrong and outrage desperate, 
Strode on and thundered at the palace gate ; 
Rushed through the court-yard, thrusting in his rage 
To right and left each seneschal and page, 
And hurried up the broad and sounding stair, 
His white face ghastly in the torches' glare. 
From hall to hall he passed with breathless speed : 
Voices and cries he heard, but did not heed, 
Until at last he reached the banquet room, 
Blazing with light and breathing with perfume. 

There on the dais sat another king, 



FORMING PICTURES 167 

Wearing his robes, his crown, his signet-ring, 
King Robert's self in feature, form and height, 
But all transfigured with angelic light ! 
It was an Angel ; and his presence there 
With a divine effulgence filled the air, 
An exaltation piercing the disguise, 
Though none the hidden Ad gel recognize. 

A moment speechless, motionless, amazed, 

The throneless monarch on the Angel gazed, 

Who met his look of anger and surprise 

With the divine compassion of his eyes ; 

Then said, " Who art thou? and why com'st thou 

here?" 
To which King Robert answered with a sneer, 
" I am the King, and come to claim my own 
Fiom an impostor, who usurps my throne ! " 
And suddenly, at these audacious words, 
Up sprang the angry guests, and drew their swords ! 
The Angel answered with unruffled brow, 
" Nay, not the King, but the King's Jester, thou 
Henceforth shalt wear the bells and scalloped cape, 
And for tiiy counsellor shalt lead an ape ; 
Thou shalt obey my servants when they call, 
And wait upon my henchmen in the hall! " 

Deaf to King Robert's threats and cries and prayers, 

They thrust him from the hall and down the stairs ; 

A group of tittering pages ran before, 

And as they opened wide the folding-door, 

His heart failed, for he heard, with strange alarms, 

The boisterous laughter of the men-at-arms, 

And all the vaulted chamber roar and ring 

With the mock plaudits of " Long live the King ! *' 

Next morning, waking with the day's first beam, 



168 THE ART OF RENDERING 

He said within himself, " It was a dream ! " 
But the straw rustled as he turned his head, 
There were the cap and bells beside his bed, 
Around him rose the bare discolored walls, 
Close by, the steeds were champing in their stalls, 
And in the corner, a revolting shape, 
Shivering and chattering sat the wretched ape. 
It svas no dream ; the world he loved so much 
Had turned to dust and ashes at his touch ! 

Days came and went ; and now returned again 

To Sicily the old Saturnian reign ; 

Under the Angel's governance benign 

The happy island danced with corn and wine, 

And deep within the mountain's burning breast 

Enceladus, the giant, was at rest. 

Meanwhile King Kobert yielded to his fate, 

Sullen and silent and disconsolate, 

Dressed in the motley garb that Jesters wear, 

With look bewildered and a vacant stare, 

Close shaven above the ears, as monks are shorn, 

By courtiers mocked, by pages laughed to scorn, 

His only friend the ape, his only food 

What others left, — he still was unsubdued. 

And when the Angel met him on his way, 

And half in earnest, half in jest, would say, 

Sternly, though tenderly, that he might feel 

The velvet scabbard held a sword of steel, 

" Art thou the King ? " the passion of his woe 

Burst from him in resistless overflow, 

And, lifting high his forehead, he would fling 

The haughty answer back " I am, I am the King ! " 

Almost three years were ended ; when there came 



FORMING PICTURES 169 

Ambassadors of great repute and name 

From Valmond, Emperor of Allemaine, 

Unto King Robert, saying that Pope Urbane 

By letter summoned them forthwith to come 

On Holy Thursday to his city of Rome. 

The Angel with great joy received his guests, 

And gave them presents of embroidered vests, 

And velvet mantles with rich ermine lined, 

And rings and jewels of the rarest kind. 

Then he departed with them o'er the sea 

Into the lovely land of Italy, 

Whose loveliness was more resplendent made 

By the mere passing of that cavalcade, 

With plumes, and cloaks, and housings, and the stir 

Of jeweled bridle and of golden spur. 

And lo ! among the menials, in mock state, 

Upon a piebald steed, with shambling gait, 

His cloak of fox-tails napping in the wind, 

The solemn ape demurely perched behind, 

King Robert rode, making huge merriment 

In all the country towns through which they went. 

The Pope received them with great pomp and blare 
Of bannered trumpets, on Saint Peter's square, 
Giving his benediction, and embrace, 
Fervent, and full of apostolic grace. 
While with congratulations and with prayers 
He entertained the Angel unawares. 

Robert, the Jester, bursting through the crowd. 
Into their presence rushed, and cried aloud, 
u I am the King ! Look, and behold in me 
Robert, your brother. King of Sicily ! 
This man, who wears my semblance to your eyes, 
Is an impostor in a king's disguise. 



170 THE ART OF RENDERING 

Do you not know me ? does no voice within 
Answer my cry, and say we are akin? " 
The Pope in silence, but with troubled mien, 
Gazed at the Angel's countenance serene ; 
The Emperor, laughing said, " It is strange sport 
To keep a madman for thy Fool at court ! " 
And the poor, baffled Jester in disgrace 
Was hustled back among the populace. 

In solemn state the Holy Week went by, 

And Easter Sunday gleamed upon the sky ; 

The presence of the Angel, with its light, 

Before the sun rose, made the city bright, 

And with new fervor filled the hearts of men, 

Who felt that Christ indeed had risen again. 

Even the Jester, on his bed of straw, 

With haggard eyes the unwonted splendor saw, 

He felt within a power unfelt before, 

And, kneeling humbly on his chamber floor, 

He heard the rushing garments of the Lord 

Sweep through the silent air, ascending heavenward. 

And now the visit ending, and once more 
Valmond returning to the Danube's shore, 
Homeward the Angel journeyed, and again 
The land was made resplendent with his train, 
Flashing along the towns of Italy 
Unto Salerno, and from thence by sea. 
And when once more within Palermo's wall, 
And, seated on the throne in his great hall, 
He heard the Angel us from convent towers, 
As if the better world conversed with ours, 
He beckoned to King Robert to draw nigher, 
And with a gesture bade the rest retire ; 
And when they were alone, the Angel said, 



FORMING PICTURES 171 

" Art thou the King? " Then, bowing down his head, 
King Robert crossed both hands upon his breast, 
And meekly answered him : " Thou knowest best ! 
My sins as scarlet are ; let me go hence, 
And in some cloister's school of penitence, 
Across those stones, that pave the way to heaven, 
Walk barefoot, till my guilty soul be shriven ! n 

The Angel smiled, and from his radiant face 

A holy light illumined all the place, 

And through the open window, loud and clear, 

They heard the monks chant in the chapel near, 

Above the stir and tumult of the street : 

" He has put down the mighty from their seat, 

And has exalted them of low degree ! " 

And through the chant a second melody 

Rose likathe throbbing of a single string ; 

" I am an Angel, and thou art the King ! " 

King Robert, who was standing near the throne, 
Lifted his eyes, and lo ! he was alone ! 
But all apparelled as in days of old, 
With ei mined mantle and with cloth of gold ; 
And when his courtiers came, they found him there 
Kneeling upon the floor, absorbed in silent prayer. 
Henry W. Longfellow. 



WORDS LIKE ARROWS. 

My own eyes filled with tears, when I saw that hers were 
closed. 1 had stopped in the village to ask about her, but 
no one had told me she was blind. 

" May I come in? " I swung the open gate with a 
little premeditated clatter. 

She smiled ever so sweetly. *' Yes, indeed, come in. 



172 THE ART OF RENDERING 

I shall be very glad to see you. " 

Glad to see me. The pathos of the word stung me as I 
walked the flower-bordered path to the garden bench where 
she was sitting in the mellow June sunshine which turned 
her soft white hair to glistening silver. 

" Will you sit down ? •" She made room for me beside 
her and reached out her hand for mine. " You see now- 
adays hands help me to get acquainted. Ah, yours is soft 
and white I know, not hard and brown like mine. I always 
did like a pretty hand, and mine's always been so homely. ,r 

" But it is beautiful to me. I know it has done so many 
useful things and many kind deeds. " 

" And yours ? It's fine and soft, but it isn't a lazy hand. 
I feel the strength and firmness in it. I am quite a dab at 
reading hands. " She laughed gently. " Now tell me 
truly, it isn't a lazy hand, is it ? " 

" No ; not lazy, but I'm awfully afraid it has been a very 
selfish hand. " 

" Ah, my dear, that's the way we all feel. None of us 
are what we'd like to be, but it won't do to judge ourselves. 
Why, do you know, if I was to sit in judgment on myself 
I'd — why I'd sentence myself to everlasting unhappiness. " 

" Oh no, you mustn't say so. " 

But I'm not judging myself, dear. I am leaving that to 
one who is much more loving and forgiving to us poor mor- 
tals than we can be to ourselves. * 

She loosened the lingering hold of my hand which had 
thrilled me through and through and softly stroked the folds 
of my gown. 

" Silk : not the shiny kind, but soft and rich. Is it black ? " 

" No, grey for travelling. " 

" You came from the city. I thought when you first 
spoke you were probably a summer boarder. They're al- 
ways real neighborly, but somehow you talk different from 



FORMING PICTURES 173 

most of them. " 

" I have been in England for a long while. You know 
they speak differently over there. Perhaps I have picked 
up the English accent, and it's said the soft climate there 
affects the voice. " 

" My youngest daughter used to want to go to England. 
She talked a lot about it. " 

" Did she ? " I asked with the greatest interest. 

" Yes ; she kind o' reached out for travel and books and 
pictures. She could paint quite tasty pictures herself. 
Would you like to see the one she did of the little school- 
house and the brook? Her father had it framed for me 
the Christmas before he died. He got it down out of the 

attic where she'd put it when But wouldn't you like 

to see it? " 

" Yes ; if I may, after a while. " 

" You see, James her father, was president of the school 
board. Daisy was the brightest girl in school — everybody 
said so — and so it was kind of appropriate for her to make 
a picture of the old red building. I often wish she could 
see how fine it looks hanging over the mantel in the parlor. 
I generally rub my hands over it once or twice a day just 
to see that it is keeping all right and the gold frame isn't 
breaking off anywhere. When anybody comes in I usually 
ask if the paint is keeping bright. You see I set a good 
deal of store by it. " 

" Do you live here alone? " I asked. 

" Yes; all by myself. " 

" Aren't you lonely ? " 

" I can't say that I am ever real lonesome, though of 
course I do get a little weary of the waiting sometimes. " 

Waiting f I asked myself. She couldn't mean that she 

was hoping or expecting to Ob, no she was too brave 

and cheery. 



174 THE ART OF RENDERING 

" Yes ; I'm waiting. I've been waiting for years. My 
sons and my daughters, they're all married and living round 
here — all but the youngest — on farms mostly, though 
Lucinda married a preacher, and he often changes churches ; 
that is some comfort, for Lucinda has got convinced her- 
self now that it wouldn't do for me to be moving every 
whipstitch, so she doesn't ask me to live with her any more. 
If the others would only quit, I'd be a heap sight happier. 
I hate to be saying, no to my children all the time, and they 
think I am dreadfully set in my way ; and I suppose I am. 
I just tell them I would not be contented anywhere but 
right here in the old house where I've lived in since they 
were all babies. I don't mind having the little maid come 
every morning from the village to help me, for she's a nice 
child and I'm teaching her to sew and knit. There is the 
telephone, too, for company. I had one put in because I've 
heard how people can talk over them a long distance, and 
I might, you know, be called up some time from a very long 
way off. There; 1 guess I'm getting garrulous. Tell me 
about yourself. I always like to know about people. n 

" Yes ; but not yet. First, I should like to know if you 
feel like telling me about the waiting? " 

" I knew when you sat down beside me I'd tell you 
sooner or later. There's some people I can't help pouring 
out my heart to, and when I can tell I like to do it for it 
might help. It's like shooting arrows into the air. You 
never ca n tell where words, said to these city folks may land. 
I remember saying that to a young man that used to come 
to see me, and he agreed it was true, that words sent out 
couldn't always go astray — that surely some time theright 
person would hear them. He gave me a new courage — he 
was so strong, so helpful. I've always wished he'd come 
back, but he never has. And — I just go on waiting. " 

" What was he like? " 



FORMING PICTURES 175 

" He was tall and broad-shouldered, with a deep, gentle 
voice, and his eyes and hair were kind of tawny brown. 
T remember him very distinctly because he was the last 
person I saw before my blindness came. He was standing 
in the garden saying good-bye to me, and I was wondering 
why such a fine able-bodied man should paint pictures for 
a living when the darkness began to come. I thought it 
was just the heat or something, and I didn't say anything 
about it ; but when he was gone I started into the house 
and I found I was blind. " 

*' Oh! " I shuddered, " how terribly sudden. " 

" Yes, it was sudden, and the worst of it all was that I 
knew after all my long waiting I'd never see Daisy when 
she comes back. You see, my dear, I'm waiting for my 
youngest daughter. Whenever she comes back she'll 
find her mother waiting for her in the old home. Some- 
times I think if she had only been a little more patient when 
her father refused to let her go to the city to studyhe might 
have been brought round to it. But she was determined 
and enthusiastic, like all young folks I guess. It would 
be a dull world if they weren't so, wouldn't it? She told 
him she would surely go some day, and he grew very angry 
and said dreadful bitter words that he did not mean — oh, 
I know he didn't mean them. He told her that if she left 
home against his wishes that would be the end, that she need 
never come back. 

I ought to have spoken up then and made him see how 
wrong he was, but it was always my way to kind of wait on 
father's moods, and he usually came round to my way of 
thinking, sort of dismounting from his high horse in the 
dark you know. But I've wished many and many a time 
that I had spoken up and asserted Daisy's rights. That's 
what I ought to have done, but I guess I was always too 
peace-loving, and I didn't realise until she was gone that 



176 THE ART OF RENDERING 

I might have saved us all a lot of unhappiness, if I'd been 
a little more high-spirited. When father found she had 
left without a word he was terribly angry and he wouldn't 
talk of her to me at all, but I knew afterwards that he tried 
to trace her in the city, but it was no use. She had disap- 
peared completely. Oh, those were dreary days. " 
Cruel, cruel days, " I cried. 

" It wasn't till that last Christmas, when father had the 
schoolhouse picture framed and hung over the mantel I was 
sure he was sorry and loving. He couldn't talk about her, 
but when we sat down before the fire Christmas night he 
took my hand and said, ' It's some comfort, ain't it, mother?' 
and I knew just as well as if he had talked a whole chapter 
that his heart cried out for his baby girl, Daisy, as much 
as mine did. Somehow we were a good deal happier after 
that. He died the next fall, and I've been here ever since 
just waiting. " 

How long ago is that ? " 

" Almost four years now. " 

" Four years? Oh, what a useless tragedy ! You know 
what you said about your words falling like arro ws ? Well, 
that young man to whom you told the story repeated it 
wherever he went, and he was a great wanderer. " 

" Why, bless me, did you know him? *' 

" Yes ; I heard him tell the story in a little summer camp 
of artists on the Scilly Isles, a part of England, you know, 
and he said moreover that he had vowed that if he ever 
found your Daisy he would bring her back to you. " 

" Did he? God bless him ! My, how little and near to- 
gether this great big, wide-spread world is after all. Just 
to think you have seen him way off there across the water. M 

" And — and how can I tell you ? He has kept his 
word. He has married your Daisy and — " 

" Where — where is she? " the dear old voice rang 



FORMING PICTURES 177 

out with a penetrating agony of hope that stopped my 
heart's beating for an instant, but 1 was afraid to speak. 
T sank down on the ground at her knee and reached my 
arms around her waist. 

" Where — where is she I say ? " 

" Here, marmsie, " I cried in a choking voice, using 
my old baby-girl name for her. 

" My child, my child ! " She passed her hands over my 
face, and as I rose and took her in my arms and kissed her 
again and again she murmured, " And sometimes I doubt- 
ed — Lreally dared to doubt — the goodness of God. Oh 
my child, my baby Daisy ! " 

Then there was a rattle at the gate and a tall tawny-haired 
man with the kindest eyes in the world came into the 
garden and encircled us both in his strong, loving arms. 

The Sphere. 



A DAY IN THE MOUNTAINS. 

We commenced our journey to Placid Lake, forty-two 
miles distant, at daybreak. The mountain air was chill 
and invigorating, our horses were fresh and we were soon 
deep in the forest. One who has never experienced it can 
scarcely appreciate the feeling of isolation that comes over 
one on finding himself on a narrow trail in the forest sur- 
rounded and shut in on all sides by tall pine trees into whose 
depths he can peer at times but a few yards, yet it is by no 
means a monotonous isolation for the wood is full of variety 
and abounds with life. Squirrels and chipmunks chattered 
and scolded us from the branches of the trees as if they 
would dispute our right to trespass on the property nature 
had provided for them. Rabbits scurried across our path. 
Prairie chickens flew clumsily out of our way to some 
neighboring boughs from which they watched us with a look 



178 THE ART OF RENDERING 

of innocent wonder. Sometimes our trail led us along the 
banks of the Big Blackfoot River, sometimes over precipi- 
tous mountain spurs, sometimes through deep ravines with 
only a narrow passage through the tangled undergrowth, 
sometimes across broad valleys looking for all the world 
like well-kept Parks with the trees set out singly or in 
groups in a beautiful greensward. One of these ideal re- 
treats in the heart of the mountains appeared to be a dining- 
room for our noonday meal. We sat by the side of a de- 
lightful stream of clear, cool water and ate and drank with 
a real mountain appetite rendered keen by an early break- 
fast and long ride. Our dessert grew all around in a plen- 
tiful supply of huckleberries and wild strawberries. 

Resuming our journey, our trail now led us up a steep 
mountain side, so steep we were obliged to dismount, at times, 
and lead our horses. Reaching the crest, we were amply re- 
paid for our labor. This vantage afforded us a view of 
the surrounding country, or the surrounding forests, mile 
upon mile of dense forests as far as the eye could reach 
over mountain and valley, one vast ocean of pine trees with 
no sign of human life or habitation. 

After feasting our eyes awhile we began our descent 
of the other side of the mountain, which was almost as dif- 
ficult as our ascent. On reaching the valley below, two or 
three miles of trail through matted thickets and over fallen 
trees brought us to the shore of Placid Lake. Our trail lay 
along the northern shore. A more beautiful sheet of water 
it would be hard to imagine. Surrounded on all sides by 
the pine-clad mountains, it is as placid and still as a mir- 
ror and like a mirror reflects the dark green of its surround- 
ings till looking from shore to shore it is about impossible 
to distinguish between shadow and reality — to tell where 
the' water leaves off and the wood commences. To make 
the picture more perfect a stag stood on the further shore 



FORMING PICTURES 179 

suspiciously sniffing the air. When one of our horses 
struck his foot against a rock, the stag bounded off into the 
depths of the woods. 

One hour's ride brought us to the little secluded settle- 
ment and the ranch-house where we were to spend the night. 
The inhabitants do not often get a glimpse of the outside 
world for they are forty -two miles from the nearest post- 
office and seventy miles from the nearest railway. The 
people are simple in their tastes and their wants are few. 
They live in comparative happiness far from the noise 
and strife of the commercial world. One can scarcely im- 
agine that such a restful, sequestered, natural retreat could 
exist in this land of strenuous endeavor. 

Our arrival from the outside world caused quite a com- 
motion. We were greeted at the door of the log cabin by 
the whole family including numerous dogs and cats and 
other household pets. The children, little, ragged, tow- 
headed urchins wild as their own surroundings, watched us 
stealthily from behind doors and articles of furniture but 
instantly disappeared if we chanced to look in their direc- 
tion. Supper was hastened on our account. And such a 
supper! steak cut from fresh venison, home-made bread, 
potatoes and coffee. After our long day's ride in the 
invigorating mountain air, it tasted good beyond comparison. 

After supper we went outside to chat and watch the sun- 
set, the crowning glory of a glorious day in the mountains. 
Two colossal mountain peaks away in the west with their 
intervening spaces formed the pillars and gateway through 
which the sun made his majestic farewell amid a riot of 
changing glory. In the background behind the mountain 
portals, massive fleecy clouds had rolled themselves into 
a gigantic mass of mountain and valley till they looked like 
some fair, distant land where light and shade combined to 
make a scene of splendor. A land sunkissed till every 



180 THE ART OF RENDERING 

cloud-mountain and valley glowed in colors of gold and am- 
ber and pink and crimson. Gradually this magnificent 
cloud-country melted away in more subdued and softer 
tints, quietly slipping into space till at last one little, lonely 
silver tipped, roseate tinted cloud remained. This too faded 
and disappeared. The shadows grew long in the valley. 
The long-drawn, dismal cry of the coyote rallying for noc- 
turnal adventures and the chill air reminded us that the 
day was done and we went in to sleep on a forest-made, 
fragrant bed of pine boughs. 
From " A Western Trip. " Rev. David W. Ferry. 



LAKE GRASMERE 

Clouds, lingering yet, extend in solid bars 

Through the gray west ; and lo I these waters, steeled 

By breezeless air to smoothest polish, yield 

A vivid repetition of the stars ; 

Jove, Venus, and the ruddy crest of Mars 

Amid his fellows beauteonsly revealed 

At happy distance from earth's groaning field, 

Where ruthless mortals wage incessant wars. 

Is it a mirror ? — or the nether Sphere 

Opening to view the abyss in which she feeds 

Her own calm fires? — But list ! a voice is near ; 

Great Pan himself low-whispering through the reeds, 

" Be thankful, thou ; for, if unholy deeds 

Ravage the world, tranquillity is here ! " 

Wordsworth. 



Those evening clouds, that setting ray, and beauteous tints, 
serve to display their great Creator's praise ; then let the 
short lived thing call'd man, whose life is comprised within 
a span, to Him his homage raise. Scott. 



COLOSSAL PICTURES 181 



SIXTH STEP IN RENDERING. 

VITAL, ANIMATED PICTURES AND SCENES. 

In Vitalized or Animated pictures, have in mind not 
only a picture but the Scene itself in full, true in action 
and magnitude. Let the pictures in the mind become 
reality, then there will be no danger of forcing the voice. 



THE SHIPWRECK. 

I opened the yard gate and looked into the empty street. 
The sand, the seaweed, and the flakes of foam were driving 
by, and I was obliged to call for assistance before I could 
shut the gate again, and make it fast against the wind. 

There was a dark gloom in my lonely chamber, when I 
at length returned to it ; but I was tired now, and getting in- 
to bed again, fell into the depths of sleep until broad day ; 
when I was aroused at eight or nine o'clock by some one 
knocking or calling at my door. 

" What is the matter? " 

" A wreck ! close by ! " 

" What wreck? *» 

" A schooner from Spain or Portugal, laden with fruit 
and wine. Make haste, sir, if you want to see her ! It's 
thought down on the beach she'll go to pieces every mo- 
ment. " 

1 wrapped myself in my clothes as quickly as I could, 
and ran into the street, where numbers of people were be- 
fore me, all running in one direction, — to the beach. I 
ran the same way, outstripping a good many, and soon came 



182 THE ART OF RENDERING 

facing the wild sea. Every appearance it had before pre- 
sented bore the expression of being swelled ; and the height 
to which the breakers rose and bore one another down, and 
rolled in, in interminable hosts, was most appalling. 

In the difficulty of hearing anything but wind and waves, 
and in the crowd, and the unspeakable confusion, and my 
first breathless efforts to stand against the weather, I was so 
confused that I looked out to sea for the wreck, and saw 
nothing but the foaming heads of the great waves. 

A boatman laid a hand upon my arm and pointed. Then 
I saw it, close in upon us. 

One mast was broken short off, six or eight feet from the 
deck, and lay over the side, entangled in a maze of sail and 
rigging : and all that ruin, as the ship rolled and beat, — 
which she did with a violence quite inconceivable, — beat the 
side as if it would stave it in. Some efforts were being 
made to cut this portion of the wreck away ; for, as the ship, 
which was broadside on, turned toward us in her rolling, 
I plainly descried her people at work with axes — especially 
one active figure, with long curling hair. But a great cry, 
audible even above the wind and water, rose from the shore ; 
the sea, sweeping over the wreck, made a clean breach, and 
carried men, spars, casks, planks, bulwarks, heaps of such 
toys, into the boiling surge. 

The second mast was yet standing, with the rags of a sail, 
and a wild confusion of broken cordage, flapping to and fro. 
The ship had struck once, the same boatman said, and then 
lifted in, and struck again. I understood him to add that 
she was parting amidships. As he spoke, there was another 
great cry of pity from the beach. Four men arose with the 
wreck out of the deep ; clinging to the rigging of the re. 
maining mast ; uppermost, the active figure with the curling 
hair. There was a bell on board ; and as the ship rolled and 
dashed, this bell rang ; and its sound, the knell of those un- 



COLOSSAL PICTURES 183 

happy men, was borne toward us on the wind. Again we 
lost her, and again she rose. Two of the four men were gone. 

I noticed that some new sensation moved the people on 
the beach, and I saw them part, and Ham come breaking 
through them to the front. 

Instantly I ran to him, for I divined that he meant to 
wade off with the rope. I held him back with both arms ; 
and implored the men not to listen to him, not to let him 
stir from that sand. 

Another cry arose, and we saw the cruel sail, with blow 
on blow, beat off the lower of the two men, and fly up in 
triumph round the active figure left alone upon the mast. 
Against such a sight, and against such determination as 
that of the calmly desperate man, who was already accus- 
tomed to lead half the people present, I might as hopefully 
have entreated the wind. 

I was swept away to some distance, where the people a- 
round me made me stay ; urging, as I confusedly perceived, 
that he was bent on going, with help or without, and that I 
should endanger the precautions for his safety by troubling 
those with whom they rested. I saw hurry on the beach, 
and men running with ropes, and penetrating into a circle 
of figures that hid him from me. Then I saw him standing 
alone, in a seaman's frock and trousers, a rope in his hand, 
another round his body, and several of the best men holding 
to the latter. 

The wreck was breaking up. I saw that she was parting 
in the middle, and that the life of the solitary man upon the 
mast hung by a thread. He had a singular red cap on, 
not like a sailor's cap, but of a finer color ; and as the few 
planks between him and destruction rolled and bulged, and 
as his death-knell rung, he was seen by all of us to wave 
this cap. I saw him do it now, and thought I was going 
distracted, when his action brought an old remembrance to 



184 THE ART OF RENDERING 

my mind of a once dear friend, the once dear friend, — 
Steerforth. 

Ham watched the sea until there was a great retiring 
wave ; when he dashed in after it, and in a moment was 
buffeting with the water, rising with the hills, falling with 
the valleys, lost beneath the foam, — borne in toward the 
shore, borne on toward the ship. 

At length he neared the wreck. He was so near, that 
with one more of his vigorous strokes he would be clinging 
to it, when a high, green, vast hill-side of water moving on 
shoreward from beyond the ship, he seemed to leap up 
into it with a mighty bound, — and the ship was gone ! 

They drew him to my very feet, insensible, dead. He 
was carried to the nearest house, and every means of res- 
toration was tried ; but he had been beaten to death by the 
great wave, and his generous heart was stilled forever. 

As I sat beside the bed, when hope was abandoned, and 
all was done, a fisherman who had known me when Emily 
and I were children, and ever since, whispered my name 
at the door. 

" Sir, will you come over yonder? " 

The old remembrance that had been recalled to me was 
in his look, and I asked him, ** Has a body come ashore? " 

" Yes. " 

" Do I know it?" 

He answered nothing. But he led me to the shore. And 
on that part of it where she and I had looked for shells, two 
children, — on that part of it where some lighter fragments 
of the old boat blown down last night had been scattered 
by the wind, — among the ruins of the home he had 
wronged, — I saw him lying with his head upon his 
arm, as I had often seen him lie at school. 
" David Copperfield. " Charles Dickens. 



COLOSSAL PICTURES 185 

ERUPTION OF MOUNT VESUVIUS. 

" To the lion with the Egyptian. " 

With that cry up sprang — on moved — thousands upon 
thousands ! They rushed from the heights — they poured 

down in the direction of the Egyptian The power 

of the prsetor was as a reed beneath the whirlwind ; still, at 
his word the guards had drawn themselves along the lower 
benches, on which the upper classes sat separate from the 
vulgar. They made but a feeble barrier — the waves of 
the human sea halted for a moment to enable Arbaces to 
count the exact moment of his doom ! In despair, and in 
a terror which beat down even his pride, he glanced his eyes 
over the rolling and rushing crowd — when, right above 
them, through the wide chasm which had been left in the 
velaria, he beheld a strange and awful apparition — he be- 
held — and his craft restored his courage! 

He stretched his hand on high ; over his lofty brow and 
royal features there came an expression of unutterable so- 
lemnity and command. 

" Behold ! " he shouted with a voice of thunder, which 
stilled the roar of the crowd ; " behold how the gods pro- 
tect the guiltless ! The fires of the avenging Orcus burst 
forth against the false witness of my accusers ! " 

The eyes of the crowd followed the gesture of the Egyp- 
tian, and beheld, with ineffable dismay, a vast vapor shoot 
ing from the summit of Vesuvius, in the form of a gigantic 
pine-tree ; the trunk, blackness, — the branches, fire ! — a 
fire that shifted and wavered in its hues with every moment, 
now fiercely luminous, now of a dull and dying red, that 
again blazed terrifically forth with intolerable glare J 

There was a dead, heart-sunken silence — through which 
there suddenly broke the roar of the lion, which was ech- 
oed back from within the building by the sharper and fiercer 



186 THE ART OF RENDERING 

yells of its fellow-beast. Dread seers were they of the 
Burden of the Atmosphere, and wild prophets of the wrath 
to come ! 

Then there arose on high the universal shrieks of women ; 
the men stared at each other, but were dumb. At that 
moment they felt the earth shake beneath their feet ; the 
walls of the theatre trembled ; and, beyond in the distance, 
they heard the crash of falling roofs ; an instant more and 
the mountain-cloud seemed to roll towards them, dark and 
rapid, like a torrent ; at the same time, it cast forth from its 
bosom a shower of ashes mixed with vast fragments of burn- 
ing stone! Over the crushing vines, — over the desolate 
streets, — over the amphitheatre itself, — far and wide, — 
with many a mighty splash in the agitated sea, — fell that 
awful shower ! 

No longer thought the crowd of justice or of Arbaces ; 
safety for themselves was their sole thought. Each turned 
t fly — each dashing, pressing, crushing, against the other. 
Trampling recklessly over the fallen — amidst groans, and 
oaths, and prayers, and sudden shrieks, the enormous crowd 
vomited itself forth through the numerous passages. Whith- 
er should they fly ? Some, anticipating a second earthquake, 
hastened &o their homes to load themselves with their 
most costly goods, and escape while it was yet time ; others, 
dreading the shower of ashes that now fell fast, torrent up- 
on torrent, over the streets, rushed under the roofs of the 
nearest houses, or temples, or sheds — shelter of any kind — 
for protection from the terrors of the open air. But darker 
and larger, and mightier, spread the cloud above them. 
It was a sudden and more ghastly Night rushing upon 
the realm of Noon ! . . . . " Gods ! — how the darkness 
gathers ! Ho, ho ; — by yon terrific mountain, what sudden 
blazes of lightning! — Hades is loosed on earth ! " 
" Last Days of Pompeii. " Sir Bulwer Lyttgn. 



COLOSSAL PICTURES 187 

THE BUKNING OF MOSCOW. 

The bright moon rose over the mighty city, tipping with 
silver the domes of more than two hundred churches, and 
pouring a flood of light over a thousand palaces and the 
dwellings of three hundred thousand inhabitants. The 
weary army sunk to rest, but there was no sleep for Mortier's 
eyes. Not the gorgeous and variegated palaces and their 
rich ornaments, nor the parks and gardens and orient id 
magnificence that everywhere surrounded him, kept him 
wakeful, but the ominous foreboding that some dire calam* 
ity was hanging over the silent capital. * * * 

O, it was a scene of woe and fear inconceivable and in- 
describable ! A mighty and closely packed city of houses, 
and churches, and palaces, wrapped from limit to limit in 
flames, which are fed by a whirling hurricane, is a sight the 
world will seldom see. 

But this was within the city. To Napoleon, without, the 
scene was still more sublime and terrific. When the 
flames had overcome all obstacles, and had wrapped every- 
thing in their red mantle, that great city looked like a sea of 
rolling fire, swept by a tempest that drove it into billows. 
Huge domes and towers, throwing off sparks like blazing 
firebrands, now disappeared in their maddening flow, as 
they rushed and broke high over their tops, scattering their 
spray of fire against the clouds. The heavens themselves 
seemed to have caught the conflagration, and the angry 
masses that swept it rolled over a bosom of fire. 

Columns of flame would rise and sink along the surface 
of this sea, and huge volumes of black smoke suddenly shoot 
into the air, as if volcanoes were working below. The 
black form of the Kremlin alone towered above the chaos, 
now wrapped in flame and smoke, again emerged into view, 
standing amid this scene of desolation and terror, like Virtue 
in the midst of a burning world, enveloped but unscathed 



188 THE ART OF RENDERING 

by the devouring elements. Napoleon stood and gazed on 
the scene in silent awe. Though nearly three miles distant, 
the windows and walls of his apartments were so hot that 
he could scarcely bear his hand against them. 

Said he years afterward : "It was a spectacle of a sea 
and billows of fire, a sky and clouds of flame, mountains of 
red rolling flames, like immense waves of the sea, alternately 
bursting forth and elevating themselves to the skies of flame 
below. O, it was the most grand, the most sublime, and the 
most terrific sight the world ever beheld. " 
Abridged. J. T. Headley. 



VISION OF THE HEAVENLY JERUSALEM. 

A nd he carried me away in the spirit to a great and high 
mountain, and showed me that great city, the holy Jerusalem, 
descending out of heaven from God, having the glory of 
God : and her light was like unto a stone most precious, 
even like a jasper stone, clear as crystal; and had a wall 
great and high, and had twelve gates, and at the gates twelve 
angels, and names written thereon, which are the names of 
the twelve tribes of the children of Israel : on the east three 
gates ; on the north three gates ; on the south three gates ; 
and on the west three gates. And the wall of the city had 
twelve foundations, and in them the names of the twelve 
apostles of the Lamb. 

And he that talked with me had a golden reed to measure 
the city, and the gates thereof , and the wall thereof. And 
the city lieth foursquare, and the length is as large as the 
breadth . and he measured the city with the reed, twelve 
thousand furlongs. The length and the breadth and the 
height of it are equal. And he measured the wall thereof, 
an hundred and forty and four cubits, according to the meas- 
ure of a man, that is, of the angel. And the building of 



COLOSSAL PICTURES 189 

the wall of it was of jasper : and the city was pure gold, 
like unto clear glass. And the foundations of the wall of 
the city were garnished with all manner of precious stones. 
The first foundation was jasper ; the second, sapphire ; the 
third, a chalcedony ; the fourth, an emerald ; the fifth, sar- 
donyx; the sixth, sardius; the seventh, chrysolyte; the 
eighth, beryl ; the ninth, a topaz ; the tenth, a chrysoprasus ; 
the eleventh, a jacinth; the twelfth, an amethyst. 

And the twelve gates were twelve pearls ; every several 
gate was of one pearl : and the street of the city was pure 
gold, as it were transparent glass. 

And I saw no temple therein : for the Lord God Almighty 
and the Lamb are the temple of it. And the city had 
no need of the sun, neither of the moon, to shine in it ; for 
the glory of God did lighten it, and the Lamb is the light 
thereof. And the nations of them which are saved shall 
walk in the light of it : and the kings of the earth do bring 
their glory and honor into it. And the gates of it shall not 
be shut at all by day : for there shall be no night there. 
And they shall bring the glory and honor of the nations 
into it. And there shall in no wise enter into it anything 
that defileth, neither whatsoever worketh abomination, or 
maketh a lie : but they which are written in the Lamb's 
book of life. 
Revelation XXI. St. John. 



Beneath there sate on many a sapphire throne 
The great who had departed from mankind, 
A mighty senate ; some, whose white hair shone 
Like mountain-snow, mild, beautiful, and blind ; 
Some female forms, whose gestures beamed with mind; 
And ardent youths, and children bright and fair ; 
And some had lyres whose strings were intertwined 
"With pale and clinging flames. 
Revolt op Islam. " Shelley. 



190 THE ART OF RENDERING 



SEVENTH STEP IN RENDERING. 
IDEAL PICTURES. 

Ideal pictures, or unreal, poetic, fanciful creations of 
the imagination should be living in the mind vividly, 
even as the real, substantial pictures. They should be 
rendered with a touch of delicacy and artistic finesse 
and poetic suggestiveness, avoiding too much realism. 

From the fact that ideal, unreal pictures are not 
so common as the actual and the real, some minds 
fail to grasp them so readily. Some of Moore's poems: 
" Lalla Rookh, " u The Sylph's Ball, " and Tennyson s 
" Merman, " and " Mermaid " present unreal pictures. 

Real objects, small and delicate, should be pictured 
as close at hand and should be portrayed with fitting 
expression. 



THE SEA FAIRIES. 

Slow sail'd the weary mariners and saw, 
Betwixt the green brink and the running foam, 
Sweet faces, rounded arms, and bosoms prest 
To little harps of gold ; and while they mused, 
Whispering to each other half in fear, 
Shrill music reach'd them on the middle sea. 

Whither away, whither away, whither away? fly no more. 
Whither away from the high green field, and the happy 

blossoming shore? 
Day and night to the billow the fountain calls : 



IDEAL PICTURES 191 

Down shower the gambolling waterfalls 
From wandering over the lea : 
Out of the live-green heart of the dells 
They freshen the silvery-crimson shells, 
And thick with white bells the clover-hill swells 
High over the full-toned sea : 
O hither, come hither and furl your sails, 
Come hither to me and to me : 
Hither, come hither and frolic and play ; 
Here it is only the mew that wails ; 
We will sing to you all the day : 
Mariner, mariner, furl your sails, 
For here are the blissful downs and dales, 
And merrily merrily carol the gales, 
And the spangle dances iu bight and bay, 
And the rainbow forms and flies on the land 
Over the islands free ; 

And the rainbow lives in the curve of the sand ; 
Hither, come hither and see ; 
And the rainbow hangs on the poising wave, 
And sweet is the colour of cove and cave, 
And sweet shall your welcome be : 
O hither, come hither, and be our lords, 
For merry brides are we : 

We will kiss sweet kisses, and speak sweet words : 
Oh listen, listen, your eyes shall glisten 
With pleasure and love and jubilee : 
When the sharp clear twang of the golden chords 
Runs up the ridged sea. 
Who can light on as happy a shore 
All the world o'er, all the world o'er? 
Whither away ? listen and stay : mariner, mariner, fly no 
more. 

Tennyson. 



192 THE ART OF RENDERING 

PARADISE AND THE PERI. 

One morn a Peri at the gate 
Of Eden stood, disconsolate ; 
And as she listened to the springs 
Of life within, like music flowing, 
And caught the light upon her wings 
Through the half-open portal glowing, 
She wept to think her recreant race 
Should e'er have lost that glorious place! 

" Ho w happy, " exclaimed this child of air, 
" Are the holy spirits who wander there, 
'Mid flowers that never shall fade or fall! 
Though mine are the gardens of earth and sea, 
One blossom of heaven outblooms them all ! " 

The glorious angel who was keeping 
The gates of light beheld her weeping ; 
And, as he nearer drew and listened, 
A tear within his eyelids glistened. — 
'* Nymph of a fair but erring line ! " 
Gently he said, " one hope is thine. 

Tis written in the book of fate, 
The Peri yet may be forgiven, 
Who brings to this eternal gate 
The gift that is most dear to Heaven ! 
Go, seek it, and redeem thy sin ; 
Tis sweet to let the pardoned in ! " 

Rapidly as comets run 

To the embraces of the sun, 

Down the blue vault the Peri flies, 

And, lighted earthward by a glance 

That just then broke from morning's eyes, 



IDEAL PICTURES 193 

Hung hovering o'er our world's expanse. 
Over the vale of Baalbec winging, 

The Peri sees a child at play, 
Among the rosy wild-flowers singing, 

As rosy and as wild as they ; 
Chasing with eager hands and eyes, 
The beautiful blue damsel-flies 
That fluttered round the jasmine stems, 
Like winged flowers or flying gems : 
And near the boy, who, tired with play, 
Now nestling 'mid the roses lay, 
She saw a wearied man dismount 

From his hot steed, and on the brink 
Of a small temple's rustic fount 

Impatient fling him down to drink. 

Then swift his haggard brow he turned 

To the fair child, who fearless sat — 
Though never yet hath day-beam burned 
Upon a brow more fierce than that — 
Sullenly fierce — a mixture dire, 
Like thunder-clouds of gloom and fire, 
In which the Peri's eye could read 
Dark tales of many a ruthless deed. 

Yet tranquil now that man of crime 
( As if the balmy evening time 
Softened his spirit ) looked and lay, 
Watching the rosy infant's play ; 
Though still, whene'er his eye by chance 
Fell on the boy's its lurid glance 

Met that unclouded, joyous gaze, 
As torches that have burnt all night 

Encounter morning's glorious rays. 



194 THE ART OF RENDERING 

But hark ! the vesper call to prayer, 

As slow the orb of daylight sets, 
Is rising sweetly on the air 

From Syria's thousand minarets ! 
The boy has started from the bed 
Of flowers, where he had laid his head, 
And down upon the fragrant sod 

Kneels, with hi3 forehead to the south, 
Lisping th* eternal name of God 

From purity's own cherub mouth ; 
And looking, while his hands and eyes 
Are lifted to the glowing skies, 
Like a stray babe of paradise, 
Just lighted on that flowery plain, 
And seeking for its home again ! 

And how felt he, the wretched man 

Reclining there — while memory ran 

O'er many a year of guilt and strife 

That marked the dark flood of his life, 

Nor found one sunny resting-place, 

Nor brought him back one branch of grace ? — 

u There was a time, " he said, in mild, 

Heart-humbled tones, " thou blessed child ! 

When young, and haply pure as thou, 

I looked and prayed like thee ; but now " — 

He hung his head ; each nobler aim 

And hope and feeling which had slept 
From boyhood's hour, that instant came 

Fresh o'er him, and he wept — he wept ! 

And now ! behold him kneeling there, 
By the child *s side in humble prayer, 
While the same sunbeam shines upon 
The guilty and the guiltless one, 



IDEAL PICTURES 195 

And hymns of joy proclaim through heaven 
The triumph of a soul forgiven ! 

'Twas when the golden orb had set, 
While on their knees they lingered yet, 
There fell a light more lovely far 
Than ever came from sun or star — 
Upon the tear that, warm and meek, 
Dewed that repentant sinner's cheek : 
To mortal eye this light might seem 
A northern flash or meteor beam ; 
But well th' enraptured Peri knew 
'Twas a bright smile the angel threw 
From heaven's gate, to hail that tear — 
Her harbinger of glory near ! 
" Joy ! joy ! " she cried ; " my task is done — 
The gates are passed, and heaven is won ! " 
Abridged. Thomas Moore. 



TO A SKYLARK. 

Hail to thee, blithe spirit — 

Bird thou never wert — 
That from heaven or near it 
Pourest thy full iieart 
In profuse strains of unpremeditated art. 

Higher still and higher 

From the earth thou springest, 
Like a cloud of fire ; 

The blue deep thou wingest, 
And singing still dost soar, and soaring ever 
singest. 



196 THE ART OF RENDERING 

In the golden lightning 

Of the sunken sun, 
O'er which clouds are bright'ning, 
Thou dost float and run, 
Like an unbodied joy whose race is just begun. 

The pale purple even 

Melts around thy flight ; 
Like a star of heaven, 
In the broad daylight 
Thou art unseen, but yet I hear thy shrill 
delight. 

Keen as are the arrows 

Of that silver sphere 
Whose intense lamp narrows 

In the white dawn clear, 
Until we hardly see, we feel, that it is there. 

All the earth and air 

With thy voice is loud, 
As when night is bare, 

From one lonely cloud 
The moon raiDS out her beams, and heaven 
is overflowed. 

What thou art we know not ; 

What is most like thee ? 
From rainbow-clouds there flow not 
Drops so bright to see 
As from thy presence showers a rain of mel- 
ody:— 

Like a poet hidden 

In the light of thought, 
Singing hymns unbidden, 



IDEAL PICTURES 197 

Till the world is wrought 
To sympathy with hopes and fears it heeded 
not : 

Like a high-born maiden 

In a palace tower, 
Soothing her love-laden 
Soul in secret hour 
With music sweet as love which overflows 
her bower : 

Like a glow-worm golden 

In a dell of dew, 
Scattering un beholden 
Its aerial hue 
Among the flowers and grass which screen 
it from the view : 

Like a rose embowered 

In its own green leaves, 
By warm winds deflowered, 
Till the scent it gives 
Makes faint with too much sweet these heavy- 
winged thieves. 

Sound of vernal showers 

On the twinkling: grass, 
Rain-awakened flowers, — 

All that ever was, 
Joyous and clear and fresh, — thy music doth 



Teach us, sprite or bird, 

What sweet thoughts are thine : 
I have never heard 

Praise of love sublime 



198 THE ART OF RENDERING 

That panted forth a flood of rapture so divine. 

Chorus hymeneal 

Or triumphal chaunt, 
Matched with thine, would be all 
But an empty vaunt — 
A thing wherein we feel there is some hidden 
want. 

What objects are the fountains 

Of thy happy strain ? 
What fields, or waves, or mountains? 
What shapes of sky or plain ? 
What love of thine own kind ? What igno 
ranee of pain ? 

With thy clear keen joyance 

Languor cannot be : 
Shadow of annoyance 
Never came near thee : 
Thou lovest, but ne'er knew love's had satiety. 

Waking or asleep, 

Thou of death must deem 
Things more true and deep 
Than we mortals dream, 
Or how could thy notes flow in such a crystal 
stream ? 

We look before and after, 

And pine for what is not : 
Our sincerest laughter 

With some pain is fraught ; 
Our sweetest songs are those that tell of 
saddest thought. 



IDEAL PICTURES 199 

Yet, if we could scorn 

Hate and pride and fear, 
If we were things born 
Not to shed a tear, 
I know not how thy joy we ever should come 
near. 

Better than all measures 

Of delightful sound, 
Better than all treasures 
That in books are found, 
Thy skill to poet were, thou scorner of the 
ground ! 

Teach me half the gladness 

That thy brain must know ; 
Such harmonious madness 
From my lips would flow 
The world should listen then as I am listen- 
ing now. 

Shelley. 



A child had blown a bubble fair 

That floated in the sunny air : 

A hundred rainbows danced and swung 

Upon its surface, as it hung 

In films of changing color rolled, 

Crimson, and amethyst, and gold, 

With faintest streaks of azure sheen, 

And curdling rivulets of green. 

" If so the surface shines, " cried he, 

" What marvel must the centre be ! " 

He caught it — on his empty hands 

A drop of turbid water stands ! Sill. 



200 THE ART OF RENDERING 



EIGHTH STEP IN RENDERING, 
SLIDES OF THE VOICE. 

In the Slides of the Voice lies the music of speech. 
The slides make the tune to which a thing is said. 
This tune discloses unconsciously, the most subtle, inner- 
most thought and feeling. The slides, tune or running 
commentary on the words is a language in itself the 
nearest to music, which is the universal language. 
The slides are often more significant and expressive 
than the words themselves. 

This music of speech not only reveals thought and 
feeling, but clothes the language with beauty and makes 
it attractive. Slide is to speech what ornamentation is 
to architecture. By it beauty is added to utility. The 
decoration in architecture is found in arches, window 
tracery, parapet and pinnacles overlaid with elaborate 
carvings etc. 

All that is attractive and beautiful in any art is the 
product of thought. This is particularly so in the music 
of speech. Ihrough thought and feeling only, may the 
voice attain attractive, musical elements, 

A piece of common cloth may be enriched and made 
attractive with elaborate embroidery or used as a canvas 
for a costly work of art. The value of the cloth is 
increased by the amount of thought put into it: so may 
a common, every-day voice become beautiful and attract- 



SLIDES OF THE VOICE 201 

ive by enriching the mind and heart. Try to get out 
of a study all there is in it. Beautiful slides in the 
voice do not come by chance but from inherent beauty 
of spirit and a full appreciation of the matter given. 
Learn to come sympathetically in touch with the great 
minds of literature, get their thoughts. Do not go out 
of self to do this but add others to self, then the music 
will come, not enforced, but true. Make all persuasive 
rather than argumentative. Persuasion is mure effective 
than argument. Argument is often a challenge to a 
quarrel and to strike back. Persuasion leaves the 
mind free from antagonism, ready to follow on in the 
thought. 



HAMLET'S INSTRUCTION TO THE PLAYERS. 

Speak the speech, I pray you, as I pronounced it to you, — 
trippingly on the tongue : but if you mouth it, as many of 
our players do, I had as lief the town-crier spake my lines. 
Nor do not saw the air too much with your hand thus, but 
use all gently ; for in the very torrent, tempest, and, as I may 
say, whirlwind of your passion, you must acquire and beget 
a temperance that may give it smoothness. Oh ! it offends me 
to the soul, to hear a robustious, periwig-pated fellow tear a 
passion to tatters, — to very rags, — to split the ears of the 
groundlings ; who, for the most part, are capable of nothing 
but inexplicable dumb show and noise. I would have such 
a fellow whipped for o'erdoing Termagant : it out-herods 
Herod. Pray you avoid it. 



202 THE ART OF RENDERING 

Be not too tame neither, but let your own discretion be 
your tutor. Suit the action to the word ; the word to the 
action ; with this special observance — that you o'erstep not 
the modesty of nature ; for anything so overdone is from 
the purpose of playing ; whose end, both at the first and 
now, was, and is, to hold, as *t were, the mirror up to na- 
ture ; — to show virtue her own feature ; scorn her own im- 
age ; and the very age and body of the time, his form and 
pressure. Now this, overdone or come tardy off, though 
it make the unskillful laugh, cannot but make the judicious 
grieve ; the censure of which one, must, in your allowance, 
o'erweigh a whole theater of others. 

Oh ! there be players, that I have seen play, and heard 
others praise, and that highly, not to speak it profanely, 
that, neither having the accent of Christians, nor the gait of 
Christian, pagan, or man, have so strutted and bellowed, 
that I have thought that some of nature's journeymen had 
made men, and not made them well, — they imitated hu- 
manity so abominably ! 
" Hamlet. " Shakespeare. 



PORTIA'S PLEA FOR MERCY. 

The quality of mercy is not strain'd 

It droppeth, as the gentle rain from heaven, 

Upon the place beneath : it is twice bless' d, 

It blesseth him that gives, and him that takes: 

9 Tis mightiest in the mightiest ; it becomes 

The throned monarch better than his crown : 

His scepter shows the force of temporal power, 

The attribute to awe and majesty, 

Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings. 

But mercy is above his sceptered sway, 



SLIDES OF THE VOICE 203 

It is enthroned in the hearts of kings, 
It is an attribute to God himself ; 
And earthly power doth then show likest God's 
When mercy seasons justice. Therefore, Jew, 
Though justice be thy plea, consider this, — 
That in the course of justice, none of us 
Should see salvation ; we do pray for mercy ; 
And that same prayer doth teach us all to render 
The deeds of mercy. I have spoke thus much 
To mitigate the justice of thy plea ; 
Which if thou follow, this strict court of Venice 
Must needs give sentence 'gainst the merchant there. 
" Merchant of Venice. " Shakespeare. 



POLONIUS' ADVICE TO LAERTES- 

Farewell. My blessing with you : 

And, these few precepts in thy memory 

Look thou character. Give thy thoughts no tongue, 

Nor any unproportioned thought his act. 

Be thou familiar, but by no means vulgar. 

The friends thou hast, and their adoption tried, 

Grapple them to thy soul with hooks of steel ; 

But do not dull thy palm with entertainment 

Of each new-hatch'd, unfledg'd comrade. Beware 

Of entrance to a quarrel ; but, being in, 

Bear it, that the opposer may beware of thee. 

Give every man thine ear, but few thy voice : 

Take each man's censure, but reserve thy judgment. 

Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy, 

But not express'd in fancy ; rich, not gaudy : 

For the apparel oft proclaims the man : 

And they in France, of the best rank and station, 

Are most select and generous, chief in that. 



204 THE ART OF RENDERING 

Neither a borrower, nor a lender be : 
For loan oft loses both itself and friend ; 
And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry. 
This above all, — to thine own self be true ; 
And it must follow, as the night the day, 
Thou canst not then be false to any man. 
" Hamlet. " Shakespeare. 



THANATOPSIS. 

To him who in the love of Nature holds 
Communion with her visible forms, she speaks 
A various language ; for his gayer hours 
She has a voice of gladness, and a smile 
And eloquence of beauty ; and she glides 
Into his darker musings, with a mild 
And healing sympathy, that steals away 
Their sharpness, ere he is aware. 

When thoughts 
Of the last bitter hour come like a blight 
Over thy spirit, and sad images 
Of the stern agony, and shroud, and pall, 
And breathless darkness, and the narrow house, 
Make thee to shudder, and grow sick at heart, — 
Go forth, under the open sky, and list 
To Nature's teachings, while from all around — 
Earth and her waters, and the depths of air — 
Comes a still voice : — 

Yet a few days, and thee 
The all-beholding sun shall see no more 
In all his course ; nor yet in the cold ground, 
Where thy pale form is laid with many tears, 



SLIDES OF THE VOICE 205 

Nor in the embrace of ocean, shall exist 

Thy image. Earth that nourished thee, shall claim 

Thy growth, to be resolved to earth again, 

And, lost each human trace, surrendering up 

Thine individual being, shalt thou go 

To mix forever with the elements, — 

To be a brother to the insensible rock, 

And to the sluggish clod, which the rude swain 

Turns with his share, and treads upon. The oak 

Shall send his roots abroad, and pierce thy mold. 

Yet not to thine eternal resting-place 
Shalt thou retire alone — nor couldst thou wish 
Couch more magnificent. Thou shalt lie down 
With patriarchs of the infant world — with kings, 
The powerful of the earth — the wise, the good, 
Fair forms, and hoary seers, of ages past, 
All in one mighty sepulcher. The hills 
Rock-ribbed, and ancient as the sun, — the vales 
Stretching in pensive quietness between ; 
The venerable woods — rivers that move 
In majesty, and the complaining brooks 
That make the meadows green ; and, poured round 

all, 
Old ocean's gray and melancholy waste, — 
Are but the solemn decorations all 
Of the great tomb of man. 

The golden sun, 
The planets, all the infinite host of heaven, 
Are shining on the sad abodes of death, 
Through the still lapse of ages. All that tread 
The globe, are but a handful to the tribes 
That slumber in its bosom. Take the wings 
Of morning, and the Barcan desert pierce, 



206 THE ART OF RENDERING 

Or lose thyself in the continuous woods 
Where rolls the Oregon, and hears no sound 
Save his own dashings — yet the dead are there; 
And millions in those solitudes, since first 
The flight of years began, have laid them down 
In their last sleep — the dead there reign alone. 

So shalt thou rest, — and what if thou withdraw 
Unheeded by the living — and no friend 
Take note of thy departure? All that breathe 
Will share thy destiny. The gay will laugh 
When thou art gone, the solemn brood of care 
Plod on, and each one, as before, will chase 
His favorite phantom ; yet all these shall leave 
Their mirth and their employments, and shall come 
And make their bed with thee. 

As the long train 
Of ages glide away, the sons of men, 
The youth in life's green spring, and he who goes 
In the full strength of years, matron, and maid, 
A nd the sweet babe, and the gray-headed man — 
Shall one by one be gathered to thy side, 
By those who, in their turn, shall follow them. 

So live, that, when thy summons comes to join 
The innumerable caravan, that moves 
To that mysterious realm, where each shall take 
His chamber in the silent halls of death, 
Thou go not, like the quarry-slave, at night, 
Scourged to his dungeon, but, sustained and soothed 
By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave, 
Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch 
About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams. 

William Cullen Bryant. 



SLIDES OF THE VOICE 207 



NINTH STEP IN RENDERING, 
VITAL SLIDE. 

Thought gives a slide in the voice, but feeling makes 
it Vital. Emotional speech prolongs the vowel. Emo- 
tional language requires longer slides than mental or 
didactic speech. The last named would be but inflec- 
tion as compared with the Vital Slide or the slide col- 
ored with emotion. 

Thought gives inflection to the consonant: feeling 
swells out or makes a slide on the emphatic vowel. 

Long Vital Slide is marked in expressions of Sur- 
prise, Exclamation, Emphatic Interrogation, Supplicar 
tion and other strong emotions. 



WOLSEY TO CROMWELL. 

Cromwell, I did not think to shed a tear, 
In all my miseries ; but thou hast forced me, 
Out of thy honest truth, to play the woman. 
And — when I am forgotten, as I shall be, 
And sleep in dull cold marble, where no mention 
Of me more must be heard of, — say, I taught thee ; 
Say, Wolsey — that once trod the ways of glory, 
And sounded all the depths and shoals of honor — 
Found thee a way, out of his wreck, to rise in ; 
A sure and safe one, though thy master missed it. 
Mark but my fall, and that that ruined me, 



208 THE ART OF RENDERING 

Cromwell, I charge thee, fling away ambition : 
By that sin fell the angels : how can man, then, 
The image of his Maker hope to win by 't ? 
Love thyself last ; cherish those hearts that hate thee; 
Corruption wins not more than honesty : 
Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace, 
To silence envious tongues. Be just, and fear not. 
Let all the ends thou aim'st at be thy country's, 
Thy God's and truth's ; then if thou fall'st, O Crom- 
well, 
Thou fall'st a blessed martyr ! Serve the king ; 

And Prithee, lead me in : 

There take an inventory of all I have, 
To the last penny ; 'tis the king's ; my robe, 
And my integrity to Heaven, is all 
I dare now call mine own. O Cromwell, Cromwell, 
Had I but served my God with half the zeal 
I served my king, he would not in mine age 
Have left me naked to mine enemies. 
" King Henry viii. " Shakespeare. 



PRINCE ARTHUR. 

Hubert, Heat me those irons hot ; and look thou 
stand 
Within the arras. When I strike my foot 
Upon the bosom of the ground, rush forth 
And bind the boy which you shall find wi' me 
Fast to the chair ; be heedful ; hence, and watch. 
1st. Execu. I hope your warrant will bear out 

the deed. 
Hub. Uncleanly scruples ! fear not you ; look 
to 't. 



SLIDES OF THE VOICE 209 

Young lad come forth ; I have to say with you. 

Arthur, Good-morrow, Hubert. 

Hub. Good -morrow little prince. 

Arth. As little prince as may be. 
You are sad. 

Hub. Indeed, I have been merrier. 

Arth. Mercy on me ! 

Methinks nobody should be sad but I. 
Yet I remember when I was in France, 
Young gentlemen would be sad as night 
Only for wantonness. By my Christendom, 
So 1 were out of prison, and kept sheep, 
I should be as merry as the day is long ; 
And so T would be here, but that I doubt 
My uncle practises more harm to me. 
He is afraid of me, and I of him. 
Is it my fault that I was Jeffrey's son ? 
No, indeed, it's not ; and I would to heaven 
I were your son, so you would love me, Hubert. 

Hub. ( Aside. ) If 1 talk to him, with his inno- 
cent prate, 
He will awake my mercy, which lies dead ; 
Therefore I will be sudden and despatch. 

Arth. Are you sick, Hubert? You look pale 
to-day ; 
In sooth, I would you were a little sick, 
That I might sit all night and watch with you. 
I warrant I love you more than you do me. 

Hub. ( Aside. ) His words do take possession 
of my bosom. 
Read here, young Arthur. 
How now, foolish rheum? 
Turning dispiteous torture out of door ! 
1 must be brief, lest resolution drop 



210 THE ART OF RENDERING 

Out at mine eyes in tender womanish tears. 
Can you not read it ? Is it not fair writ ? 

Arth. Too fairly, Hubert, for so foul effect. 
Must you with hot irons burn out both mine eyes? 

Hub. Young boy, I must. 

Arth. And will you ? 

Hub. And I will ! 

Arth. Have you the heart? When your head 
did but ache, 
I knit my handkerchief about your brows, 
The best I had, a princess wrought it me, 
And I did never ask it you again ; 
And with my hand at midnight held your head, 
And, like the watchful minutes to the hour, 
Still and anon cheered up the heavy time 
Saying, What lack you ? and Where lies your grief? 
Or, What good love may I perform for you ? 
Many a poor man's son would have lain still, 
And ne'er have spoke a loving word to you ; 
But you, at your sick service, had a prince. 
Nay, you may think my love was crafty love, 
And call it cunning ; do, an* if you will, 
If heaven be pleased that you must use me ill 
Why, then, you must. Will you put out mine eyes ? 
These eyes that never did, nor never shall 
So much as frown on you ? 

Hub. I have sworn to do it ; 
And with hot irons must I burn them out. 

Arth. Ah, none but in this iron age would do it ! 
The iron of itself, tho' heat red-hot, 
Approaching near these eyes, would drink my tears 
And quench his fiery indignation, 
Even in the matter of mine innocence ; 
Nay, after that, consume away in rust, 



SLIDES OF THE VOICE 211 

But for containing fire to harm mine eyes. 
Are you more stubborn hard than hammer'd 

iron? 
An' if an angel should have come to me, 
And told me Hubert should put out mine eyes, 
I would not have believed no tongue but Hubert's ! 

Hub. Come forth ! 
Do as Lbid you. 

Arth. Oh, save me, Hubert, save me ! my eyes 
are out 
Even with the fierce looks of these bloody men. 

Hub. Give me the iron, I say, and bind him here. 

Arth. Alas, why need you be so boisterous rough ? 
I will not struggle, I will stand stone still. 
For heaven's sake, Hubert, let me not be bound. 
Nay hear me Hubert, drive these men away 
And I will sit as quiet as a lamb ; 
I will not stir, nor wince, nor speak a word, 
Nor look upon the iron angerly ; 
Thrust but these men away, and I'll forgive you 
Whatever torment you do put me to. 

Hub. Go stand within ; let me alone with him. 

1st. Execu. T am best pleased to be from such 
a deed. 

Arth. Alas,I then have chid away my friend, 
He hath a stern look, but a gentle heart ; 
Let him come back, that his compassion may give 
life to yours. 

Hub. Come, boy, prepare yourself ! 

Arth. Is there no remedy ? 

Hub. None, but to lose your eyes. 

Arth. Oh, heaven, that there were but a mote in 
yours ; 
A grain, a dust, a gnat, a wandering hair, 



212 THE ART OF RENDERING 

Any annoyance in that precious sense ! 

Then, feeling what small things are boisterous there, 

Your vile intent must needs seem horrible. 

Hub. Is this your promise ? Go to, hold your 
tongue. 

Arth . Hubert, the utterance of a brace of tongues 
Must needs want pleading for a pair of eyes. 
Let me not hold my tongue, let me not, Hubert ; 
Or Hubert, if you will, cut out my tongue, 
So I may keep mine eyes. O spare mine eyes : 
Though to no use, but still to look on you. 
Lo, by my troth, the instrument is cold, and would 
not harm me. 

Hub. I can heat it, boy. 

Arth. No, in good sooth ; the fire is dead wi' grief, 
Being create for comfort, to be used 
In undeserved extremes ; see else yourself. 
There is no malice in this burning coal; 
The breath of heaven hath blown his spirit out, 
And strewed repentant ashes on his head. 

Hub. But with my breath I can revive it, boy. 

Arth. An' if you do you will but make it blush 
And glow with shame of your proceedings, Hubert, 
All things that you should use to do me wrong, 
Deny their office ; only you do lack 
That mercy which fierce fire and iron extends. 

Hub Well, see to live. I will not touch thine eyes 
For all the treasure that thine uncle owes: 
Yet am I sworn, and did purpose, boy 
With this same very iron to burn them out. 

Arth. O ! now you look like Hubert ; 
All this while, you were disguised. 

Hub, Peace ! no more, adieu ! 

Your uncle must not know but you are dead. 



SLIDES OF THE VOICE 213 

I'll fill these dogged spies with false reports. 
And, pretty child, sleep doubtless and secure, 
That Hubert, for the wealth of all the world, will 
not offend thee. 
Arth. O heaven ! I thank you, Hubert ! 
Hub. Peace : no more : go closely in with me. 
Much danger do I undergo for thee. 
" King John. " Shakespeare. 



RIP VAN WINKLE IN THE MOUNTAINS. 

From " RIP VAN WINKLE as played by JOSEPH JEFFERSON. » 
Permission by DODD, MEAD & COMPANY, NEW YORK. 

Schneider ! Schneider ! What's the matter with 
Schneider? Something must have scared that dog. There 
he goes head over heels down the hill. Well, here I am 
again — another night in the mountains ! Heigho! these 
old trees begin to know me, I reckon. 

How are you, old fellows ? Well, I like the trees, they 
keep me from the wind and the rain, and they never blow 
me up ; and when I lay me down on the broad of ray back, 
they seem to bow their heads to me, an' say : Go to sleep, 
Rip, go to sleep. 

My, what a flash that was ! Old Hendrick Hudson 's 
lighting his pipe in the mountains to-night ; now, we '11 hear 
him roll the big balls along. 

Well, — no — Schneider! No; whatever it is it's on 
two legs. Why, what a funny thing is that a coming up 
the hill ? I thought nobody but me ever come nigh this 
place. 

( Enter dwarf. ) Sit down, and make yourself comfort- 
able. What? What 's the matter? Ain't ye goin' to 
speak to a feller ? I don't want to speak to you, then. Who 
you think you was, that I want to speak to you, any more 



214 THE ART OF RENDERING 

than you want to speak to me ; you hear what I say ? 

Donner an' Blitzen ! What for a man is das? I have 
been walking over these mountains ever since I was a boy, 
an' I never saw a queer-looking codger like that before. 
He must be an old sea-snake, I reckon. 

Well, why don't you say so, den ? You mean you would 
like me to help you up with that keg? 
Well sir, I don't do it. 

No ; there's no good you speakin' like that. I never seed 
you before, did I ? 

I don't want to see you again, needer. What have you 
got in that keg, schnapps? 
I don't believe you. 

Well, I'll help you. Go 'long pick up my gun, there 
and I'll follow you mit that keg on my shoulder. I'll follow 
you, old broadchops. 

I say, old gentleman, I never was so high up in the moun- 
tains before. Look down into the valley there ; it seems 
more as a mile. I — (Goblins appear one after another. ) 
You're another feller ! 
You're that other chap's brother? 
You're another brother? 
You're his old grandfather? 

Donner and Blitzen ! here's the whole family ; I'm a 
dead man to a certainty. 

My, my, I suppose they're speakin'about me ! 
No good shoo tin' at 'em ; family's too big for one gun. 
My, my, I don't like that kind of people at all ! No, sir ! 
1 don't like any sech kind. I like that old gran 'father 
worse than any of them. 

How you was, old gentleman? I didn't mean to intrude 
on you, did I? What? 

I'll tell you how it was ; I met one of your gran 'children, 
I don't know which is the one — 



SLIDES OF THE VOICE 215 

They 're all so much alike. Well — 

That's the same kind of a one. Any way this one 
he axed me to help him up the mountain mit dat keg. 
Well, he was an old feller, an' I thought 1 would help him. 

Was I right to help him ? I say, was I right to help him ? 

If he was here, he would yust tell you the same thing — 

I did n't want to come here, anyhow ; no, sir, I didn't want 
to come to any such kind of a place 

You want me to drink mit you ? 

Well, I swore off drinkin' ; but as this is the first time I 
see you, I won't count this one — 

You drink mit me ? We drink mit one another ? 

What's the matter mit you, old gentleman, anyhow? 
You go and make so mit your head every time ; was you 
deaf? 

Oh, nein. If you was deaf you wouldn't hear what I was 
8ayin'. Was you dumb? 

So ? You was dumb ? 

Has all of your family the same complaint '{ 

All the boys dumb, hey ? All the boys dumb. 

Have you got any girls ? 

Don't you? Such a big family, and all boys? 

That's a pity ; my that's a pity. Oh, my, if you had 
some dumb girls, what wives they would make — 

Well, old gentleman, here's your good health, and all 
your family — may they live long and prosper. 

What for licker is that! 

Give me another one ! 

Oh, my, my head was so light, and now, it's heavy as lead ! 

Are you goin' to leave me, boys ? Are you goin' to leave 
me all alone? Don't leave me ; don't go away. 

I will drink your good health., and your family's — 
( Goblins vanish, Kip falls back heavily, in his long sleep. ) 

Joseph Jefferson. 



216 THE ART OF RENDERING 



TENTH STEP IN RENDERING. 
SLIDE IN VOLUME. 

Volume of Voice shows poetic fervor, the sublime, the 
reverential, that which the soul chooses as contrasted 
with that which it rejects. Slide in Volume comes from 
soul force that is positive and impels, rather than from 
that which is negative, or from a mental force that in- 
structs and directs, or from physical force that sustains. 

Beautiful expression with true musical slides is gov- 
erned by the amount and variety of thought and feeling 
living in the mind and heart at the time of utterance. 

The pathetic should be made so by the soul, rather 
than mental pathetic which is, in other words, " whine. " 
The pathetic requires, not a semitone, but a noble effort 
for control, a struggle with the breath. Slides of any 
kind " put on " have a false ring of insincerity which 
cannot be concealed. Such slides furnish another il- 
lustration of the principle : " weakness takes a strong 
attitude. " 



So live, that when the mighty caravan, 
Which halts cne night-time in the vale of death, 
Shall strike its white tents for the morning march ; 
Thou shalt mount onward to the eternal hills, 
Thy foot unwearied and thy strength renewed, 
Like the strong eagle for the upward flight. 
Vision of Immortality. " Bryant. 



SLIDES OF THE VOICE 217 



LANDING OF COLUMBUS. 

The sails were f url'd ; with many a melting close, 
Solemn and slow the evening anthem rose, — 
Rose to the Virgin. 'Twaa the hour of day 
When setting suns o'er summer seas display 
A path of glory, opening in the west 
To golden climes and islands of the blest; 
And human voices on the silent air 
Went o'er the waves in songs of gladness there ! 
Chosen of men ! 'Twas thine at noon of night 
First from the prow to hail the glimmering light? 
( Emblem of Truth divine, whose secret ray 
Enters the soul and makes the darkness day ! ) 
" Pedro ! Rodrigo ! there methought it shone ! 
There — in the west ! and now, alas, 'tis gone ! — 
'Twas all a dream ! we gaze and gaze in vain ! 
But mark and speak not, there it comes again ! 
It moves ! — what form unseen, what being there 
With torch-like lustre fires the murky air ? 
His instincts, passions, say, how like our own ! 
Oh, when will day reveal a world unknown ? " 
Long on the deep the mists of morning lay ; 
Then rose, revealing as they rolled away 
Half -circling hills, whose everlasting woods 
Sweep with their sable skirts the shadowy floods : 
And say, when all, to holy transport given, 
Embraced and wept as at the gates of heaven, — 
When one and all of us, repentant, ran, 
And, on our faces, bless'd the wondrous man,— 
Say, was I then deceived, or from the skies 
Burst on my ear seraphic harmonies ? 
11 Glory to God ! " unnumber'd voices sung, — 
" Glory to God ! " the vales and mountains rung, 



218 THE ART OF RENDERING 

Voices that hail'd creation's primal morn. 
And to the shepherds sung a Saviour born. 
Slowly, bareheaded, through the surf we bore 
The sacred cross, and kneeling kiss'd the shore. 

Rogers. 



THE AMERICAN FLAG. 

When Freedom, from her mountain height 

Unfurled her standard to the air, 
She tore the azure robe of night, 

And set the stars of glory there ! 
She mingled with its gorgeous dyes 
The milky baldric of the ekies, 
And striped its pure celestial white 
With streakings of the morning light, 
Then, from his mansion in the sun, 
She called her eagle bearer down, 
And gave into his mighty hand 
The symbol of her chosen land ! 

Majestic monarch of the cloud ! 

Who rear'st aloft thy regal form, 
To hear the tempest-trumpings loud, 
And see the lightning lances driven, 

When strive the warriors of the storm, 
And rolls the thunder-drum of heaven, — 
Child of the sun ! to thee 'tis given 

To guard the banner of the free, 
To hover in the sulphur smoke, 
To ward away the battle stroke, 

And bid its blendings shine afar, 

Like rainbows on the cloud of war, 
The harbingers of victory ! 



SLIDES OF THE VOICE 219 

Flag of the brave ! thy folds shall fly, 
The sign of hope and triumph high ! 
When speaks the signal-trumpet tone, 
And the long line comes gleaming on, 
Ere yet the life-blood, warm and wet, 
Has dimmed the glistening bayonet, 
Each soldier's eye shall brightly turn 
To where thy sky-born glories burn, 
And as his springing steps advance, 
Catch war and vengeance from the glance. 
And when the cannon-mouthings loud 
Heave in wild wreaths the battle shroud, 
And gory sabres rise and fall 
Like shoots of flame on midnight's pall, 
Then shall thy meteor glances glow, 

And cowering foes shall shrink beneath 
Each gallant arm that strikes below 

That lovely messenger of death. 

Flag of the seas ! on ocean wave 
Thy stars shall glitter o'er the brave ; 
When death, careering on the gale, 
Sweeps darkly round the bellied sail, 
And frighted waves rush wildly back 
Before the broadside's reeling rack, 
Each dying wanderer of the sea 
Shall look at once to heaven and thee, 
And smile to see thy splendors fly 
In triumph o'er his closing eye. 

Flag of the free heart's hope and home 

By angel hands to valor given, 
Thy stars have lit the welkin dome, 

And all thy hues were born in heaven ! 
Forever float that standard sheet, 



220 THE ART OF RENDERING 

Where breathes the foe but falls before us 
With Freedom's soil beneath our feet, 
And Freedom's banner streaming o'er us ! 

Joseph Eodman Drake. 



BATTLE HYMN OF THE REPUBLIC. 

Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord : 
He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath 

are stored ; 
He hath loosed the fateful lightning of his terrible swift 

sword : 

His truth is marching on. 

I have seen Him in the watch-fires of a hundred circling 

camps ; 
They have builded Him an altar in the evening dews and 



I can read His righteous sentence by the dim and flaring 
lamps. 
His day is marching on. 

I have read a fiery gospel writ in burnished rows of steel : 
" As ye deal with my contemners, so with you my grace 

shall deal ; 
Let the Hero born of woman, crush the serpent with his heel, 

Since God is marching on. H 

He hath sounded forth the trumpet that shall never call 

retreat ; 
He is sifting out the hearts of men before his judgment-seat : 
Oh ! be swift, my soul, to answer him ! Be jubilant, my feet.' 

Our God is marching on. 



SLIDES OF THE VOICE 221 

In the beauty of the lilies Christ was born across the sea, 
With a glory in his bosom that transfigures you and me : 
As he died to make men holy, let us die to make men free, 
While God is marching on. 

Julia Ward Howe. 



ERIN'S FLAG. 



Unroll Erin's flag ! fling its folds to the breeze ! 
Let it float o'er the land, let it wave o'er the seas ; 
Lift it out of the dust — let it wave as of yore, 
When its chiefs with their clans stood around it and 

swore 
That never, no, never, while God gave them life, 
And they had an arm and a sword for the strife, 
That never, no, never, that banner would yield, 
As long as the heart of a Celt was its shield ; — 
While the hand of a Celt had a weapon to wield, 
And his last drop of blood was unshed on the field. 

Lift it up ! wave it high ! — 'tis as bright as of old ; 
Not a stain on its green, not a blot on its gold, 
Though the woes and the wrongs of three hundred years 
Have drenched Erin's sunburst with blood and with 

tears; 
Though the clouds of oppression enshroud it in gloom, 
And around it the thunders of tyranny boom, 
Look aloft ! look aloft ! lo ! the cloud's drifting by, 
There is a gleam through the gloom, there is a light in 

the sky. 
•Tis the sunburst resplendent, far-flashing on high ; 
Erin's dark night is waning, her day-dawn is nigh. 



222 THE ART OF RENDERING 

Lift it up ! lift it up ! the old banner of green ; 
The blood of its sons has but brightened its sheen. 
What though the tyrant has trampled it down, 
Are its folds not emblazoned with deeds of renown ? 
What though for ages it droops in the dust, 
Shall it droop thus forever ? no I no ! God is just ! 

Take it up ! take it up from the tyrant's foul tread, 
Lest he tear the green flag, we will snatch its last shred. 
And beneath it we'll bleed as our forefathers bled, 
And we'll vow by the dust in the graves of our dead, 
And we'll swear by the blood that the Briton has shed, 
And we'll vow by the wrecks which through Erin he 

spread, 
And we'll swear by the thousands who famished, unfed 
Died down in the ditches — wild howling for bread ; 
And we'll vow by our heroes, whose spirits have fled, 
And we'll swear by the bones in each coffinless bed. 
That we'll battle the Briton through danger and dread ; 
That we'll cling to the cause which we glory to wed 
Till the gleam of our steel and the shock of our lead 
Shall prove to the foe that we meant what we said — 
That we'll lift up the green, and we'll tear down the red. 

Lift up the green flag ! oh ! it wants to go home, 
Full long has its lot been to wander and roam ; 
It has followed the fate of its sons o'er the world, 
But its folds, like their hopes, are not faded or furled ; 
Like a weary-winged bird, to the east and the west 
It has flitted and fled, but it never shall rest, 
Till pluming its pinions it sweeps o'er the main, 
And speeds to the shore of its old home again, 
Where its fetterless folds o'er each mountain and plain 
Shall wave with a glory that never shall wane. 



SLIDES OF THE VOICE 223 

Take it up ! take it up ! bear it back from afar ! 
That banner must blaze 'mid the lightnings of war ; 
Lay your hands on its folds, lift your eyes to the sky, 
And swear that you'll bear it triumphant or die ; 
And shout to the clans scattered far o'er the earth, 
To join in the march to the land of their birth ; 
And wherever the exiles, 'neath heaven's broad dome, 
Have been fated to suffer, to sorrow, and roam, 
They'll bound on the sea, and away o'er the foam 
They'll march to the music of " Home sweet home. " 

Father Ryan. 



A PROCESSIONAL HYMN. 

The earth is the Lord's, and the fullness thereof; the 
world, and they that dwell therein. For he hath founded 
it upon the seas, and established it upon the floods. 

" Who shall ascend into the hill of the Lord? or who 
shall stand in his holy place ? " 

" He that hath clean hands, and a pure heart ; who hath 
not lifted up his soul unto vanity, nor sworn deceitfully. 
He shall receive the blessing from the Lord, and righteous- 
ness from the God of his salvation. n 

This is the generation of them that seek him, that seek 
thy face, O Jacob. 

" Lift up your heads, O ye gates ; and be ye lift up, ye 
everlasting doors ; and the King of glory shall come in. " 

" Who is this King of glory ? " " The Lord strong and 
mighty, the Lord mighty in battle. Lift up your heads, O 
ye gates : even lift them up, ye everlasting doors ; and the 
King of glory shall come in. " " Who is this King of 
glory? " " The Lord of hosts, he is the King of glory. " 

Psalm xxiv. 



224 THE ART OF RENDERING 



ELEVENTH STEP IN RENDERING. 
PAUSE. 

Pause is a loophole of silence through which a whole 
thought may shine out. Such points are not always 
marked by punctuation, but are indications of thought ', 
and are points for suggestive expression. 

In the silent places — the pauses— the mind gathers 
itself to present a new impulse of thought. In pause 
is shown the honest action of the mind. 

The most common and deplorable fault of the in- 
experienced who attempt to speak in public is inability 
to give thought with the words. As a result the hurried 
pauses are of a uniform length, making such tiresome 
monotony and unnatural flow of words as to be most 
embarrassing to the speaker himself, to say nothing of 
the discomfort of the listener. " Parroting " may be 
left off and the true keynote of speech found in natural 
pauses. 

The voice of the speaker as well as the ear cf the 
listener requires a temporary period of rest. We must 
have before we can give. There must also be a mind 
to take before we can give. It is a fine art to be able 
to know when the listener has received a thought and is 
ready for the next. This may be gained in the pauses. 
Pauses vary in length to suit the importance of thought, 
short with superficial thought; long with heavy thought. 



PAUSE 225 

Where ideas are presented rapidly, the mind of the listener 
soon becomes weary and refuses to follow. It has been 
found by careful scientific tests that the mind is able to 
give attention only for a few seconds at a time. The mind 
attends in pulses and, as the normal wave of attention lasts 
only a few seconds, if the mind is compelled to attend longer 
at a single pulse the effort of listening is exhausting and 
unpleasant. Because of this, short sentences ( not so 
short as to be choppy ) are more satisfying. Thoughts 
which develop and present new aspects with interesting 
mental pictures, having natural pulses of rest, hold the at- 
tention of the listener and are an advantage to the speaker. 

Pause may be skillfully used before words telling what is 
to follow. Think of pauses as loopholes through which you 
may show the whole idea before the words are said. Such 
suggestive pauses may be made most eloquent, giving in 
suitable places gesture or pantomimic action to reveal, with- 
out words, the contents of the mind. It is gratifying to the 
listener to read this suggestive language. It is sometimes 
startling to precipitate an abrupt change or turn of the 
thought without a moment's warning. A suggestion of 
an abrupt change should be shown in the pause. 

Says Delsarte : — Silence is the father of speech, and 
must justify it. Every word which does not proceed from 
silence and find its vindication in silence, is a spurious word 
without claim or title to our regard. Origin is the stamp 
by which we recognize the intrinsic value of things. Let 
us, then, seek in silence the sufficient reason of speech, and 
remember that the more enlightened the mind is, the more 
concise is the speech that proceeds from it. Let us assume, 
then, that this conciseness keeps pace with the elevation of 
the mind, and that when the mind arrives at the perception 
of the true light, finding no words that can portray the 
glories open to its view, it keeps silent and admires. It is 



226 THE ART OF RENDERING 

through silence that the mind rises to perfection, for silence 
is the speech of God. 



A CHILD'S DREAM OP A STAR. 

There was once a child, and he strolled about a good 
deal, and thought of a number of things. He had a sis- 
ter who was a child too, and his constant companion. 
They wondered at the beauty of the flowers; they won- 
dered at the height and blueness of the sky ; they won- 
dered at the depth of the water ; they wondered at the 
goodness and power of God, who made the lovely world. 

They used to say to one another sometimes : Suppos- 
ing all the children on the earth were to die, would the 
flowers and the water and the sky be sorry ? They be- 
lieved they would be sorry. For, said they, the buds 
are the children of the flowers, and the little playful 
streams that gambol down the hillsides are the children 
of the water, and the smallest bright specks playing at 
hide-and-seek in the sky all night must surely be the 
children of the stars ; and they would all be grieved to 
see their playmates, the children of men, no more. 

There was one clear-shining star that used to come 
out in the sky before the rest, near the church-spire, 
above the graves. It was larger and more beautiful, 
they thought, than all the others, and every night they 
watched for it, standing hand-in-hand at a window. 
Whoever saw it first cried out : " I see the star. " 
And after that, they cried out both together, knowing so 
well when it would rise, and where. So they grew to 
be such friends with it that, before lying down in their 
bed, they always looked out once again to bid it good- 
night ; and when they were turning round, to sleep they 
used to say : " God bless the star ! " 



PAUSE 227 

But while she was still very young — O, very young ! — 
the sister drooped, and came to be so weak that she 
could no longer stand in the window at night, and then 
the child looked sadly out by himself, and when he saw the 
star, turned round and said to the patient, pale face on the 
bed, " I see the star ! " and then a smile would come up- 
on the face, and a weak little voice used to say : " God 
bless my brother and the star ! " 

And so the time came, all too soon, when the child looked 
out all alone, and when there was no face on the bed, and 
when there wa3 a grave among the graves not there before, 
and when the star made long rays down toward him as he 
saw it through his tears. 

Now, these rays were so bright, and they seemed to make 
such a shining way from earth to heaven, that when the 
child went to his solitary bed he dreamed about the star ; 
and dreamed that, lying where he was, he saw a train of 
people taken up that sparkling road by angels ; and the star, 
opening, showed him a great world of light, where many 
more such angels waited to receive them. 

All these angels, who were waiting, turned their beaming 
eyes upon the people who were carried up into the star ; 
and some came out from the long rows in which they stood, 
and fell upon the people's necks, and kissed them tenderly, 
and went away with them down avenues of light, and were 
so happy in their company that, lying in his bed, he 
wept for joy. 

But there were many angels who did not go with them, 
and among them one he knew. The patient face that once 
had lain upon the bed was glorified and radiant, but his 
heart found out his sister among all the host. 

His sister's angel lingered near the entrance of the star, 
and said to the leader among those who had brought the 
people thither : 



228 THE ART OF RENDERING 

" Is my brother come ? " 

And he said: "Ho!" 

She was turning hopefully away, when the child stretched 
out his arms, and cried : " O, sister, I am here ! take me I " 
And she turned her beaming eyes upon him — and it was 
night ; and the star was shining into the room, making 
long rays down toward him as he saw it through his 
tears. 

From that hour forth, the child looked out upon the star 
as the home he was to go to when his time should come ; 
and he thought that he did not belong to the earth alone, 
but to the star too, because of his sister's angel gone before. 

There was a baby born to be a brother to the child, and 
while he was so little that he never yet had spoken a word, 
he stretched out his tiny form on his bed, and died. 

Again the child dreamed of the opened star, and of the 
company of angels, and the train of people, and the rows 
of angels, with their beaming eyes all turned upon those 
people's faces. 

Said his sister's angel to the leader : 

*' Is my brother come ? " 

And he said : " Not that one, but another ! " 

As the child beheld his brother's angel in her arms, he 
cried : " ; my sister, I am here ! take me ! " And she 
turned and smiled upon him — and the star was shining. 

He grew to be a young man, and was busy at his books, 
when an old servant came to him and said : 

" Thy mother is no more. I bring her blessing on her 
darling son. " 

Again at night he saw the star, and all that former com- 
pany. Said his sister's angel to the leader : " Is my broth 
er come? *' 

And he said: " Thy mother! " 

A mighty cry of joy went forth through all the star, be- 



PAUSE 229 

cause the mother was reunited to her two children. And 
he stretched out his arms and cried : " O, mother, sister 
and brother, I am here ! Take me ! n And they answered 
him : " Not yet ! " — and the star was shining. 

He grew to be a man, whose hair was turning gray, and 
he was sitting in his chair by the fireside, hea-vy with grief t 
and with his face bedewed with tears, when the star opened 
once again. 

Said his sister's angel to the leader : " Is my brother 
come? " 

And he said : " Nay, but his maiden daughter ! " 

And the man who had been the child saw his daughter, 
newly lost to him, a celestial creature among those three, 
and he said : " My daughter's head is on my .sister's bos- 
om, and her arm is around my mother's neck, and at her 
feet is the baby of old time, and I can bear the parting 
from her. God be praised. " 

And the star was shining, 

Thus the child came to be an old man, and his once 
smooth face was wrinkled, and his steps were slow and fee- 
ble, and his back was bent. And one night as he lay upon 
his bed, his children standing around, he cried, as he cried 
so long ago : " I see the star ! " 
. They whispered one to another : " He is dying. " 

And he said : " I am. My age is falling from me like 
a garment, and I move toward the star as a child. And 
O, my Father, now I thank thee that it has so often 
opened to receive those dear ones who await me ! " 

And the star was shining : and it shines upon his grave. 

Charles Dickens. 



230 THE ART OF RENDERING 

ODE TO THE PASSIONS. 

When Music* heavenly maid, was young, 
While yet in early Greece she sung, 
The Passions oft, to hear her shell, 
Throng'd around her magic cell, — 
Exulting, trembling, raging, fainting, 
Possessed beyond the Muse's painting ; 
By turns, they felt the glowing mind 
Disturbed, delighted, raised, refined : 
Till once, 'tis said, when all were fired, 
Filled with fury, rapt, inspired, 
From the supporting myrtles round, 
They snatched her instruments of sound ; 
And, as they oft had heard apart 
Sweet lessons of her tuneful art, 
Each — for Madness ruled the hour — 
Would prove his own expressive power. 

First, Fear, his hand, its skill to try, 
Amid the chords bewildered laid ; 

And back recoiled, he knew not why, 
E'en at the sound himself had made. — 

Next Anger rushed — his eyes on fire, 
In lightnings owned his secret stings ; 

With one rude clash he struck the lyre, 
And swept, with hurried hand, the strings. 

With woeful measures, wan Despair — 
Low, sullen sounds his grief beguiled ; 

A solemn, strange, and mingled air ; 

'Twas sad by fits — by starts, 'twas wild. 

But thou, O Hope ! with eyes so fair — • 
What was thy delighted measure ? 



PAUSE 231 

Still it whispered promised pleasure, 
And bade the lovely scenes at distance hail ; 

Still would her touch the strain prolong ; 
And from the rocks, the woods, the vale, 

She called on Echo still through all her song ; 

And where her sweetest theme she chose, 

A soft responsive voice was heard at every close ; 

And Hope, enchanted, smiled, and waved 

her golden hair. 

And longer had she sung, but with a frown 

Kevenge impatient rose. 
He threw his blood-stained sword in thunder 
down, 

And with a withering look, 

The war-deDOuncing trumpet took, 
And blew a blast so loud and dread, 
Were ne'er prophetic sounds so full of woe ; 

And ever and anon, he beat 

The doubling drum with furious heat, 
And though, sometimes, each dreary pause be- 
tween, 

Dejected Pity, at his side, 

Her soul-subduing voice applied ; 
Yet still he kept his wild, unaltered mien, 
While each strained ball of sight seemed burst- 
ing from his head. 

Thy numbers, Jealousy, to nought were fixed — 

Sad proof of thy distressful state : 
Of differing themes the veering song was mixed ; 
And now it courted Love ; now, raving, called 

on Hate — 
With eyes upraised, as one inspired, 

Pale Melancholy, sat retired, 



232 THE ART OF RENDERING 

And, from her wild, sequestered seat, 
In notes by distance made more sweet, 

Poured through the mellow horn her pensive soul ; 
And dashing soft from rocks around, 
Bubbling runnels joined the sound ; 

Thro* glades and glooms the mingled measure stole^ 

Or o'er some haunted stream with fond delay, 
Round a holy calm diffusing, 
Love of peace, and lonely musing, 

In hollow murmurs died away. 

But Oh ! how altered was its sprightlier tone, 
When Cheerfulness, a nymph of healthiest hue, 
Her bow acioss her shoulder flung, 

Her buskins gemmed with morning dew, 

Blew an inspiring air, that dale and thicket rung 

The hunter's call, to Faun and Dryad known. 

The oak-crowned sisters and their chaste-eyed queen 
Satyrs and sylvan boys were seen, 

Peeping from forth their alleys green ; 

Brown exercise rejoiced to hear, 

And Sport leaped up and seized his beechen spear. 

Last came Joy's ecstatic trial ; 

He, with viny crown advancing, 
First to the lively pipe his hand addressed ; 
But soon he saw the brisk awakening viol, 

Whose sweet entrancing voice he loved the best. 
They would have thought, who heard the strain, 
They saw in Tempe's vale her native maids, 

Amid the festal-sounding shades, 
To some unwearied minstrel dancing, 

While, as his flying fingers kissed the strings, 
Love framed with Mirth a gay fantastic round, 

Loose were her tresses seen her zone unbound ; 



PAUSE 233 

And he amid his frolic play, 
As if he would the charming air repay, 
Shook thousand odors from his dewy wings. 

William Collins. 

A DAGGER OF THE MIND. 

Is this a dagger which I see before me, the handle 
Toward my hand ? Come, let me clutch thee. 
I have thee not, and yet I see thee still. 
Art thou not, fatal vision, sensible 
To feeling as to sight ? or art thou but 
A dagger of the mind, a false creation, 
Proceeding from a heat-oppressed brain? 
I see thee yet, in form as palpable 
As this which now I draw. 
Thou marshall'st me the way that I was going ; 
And such an instrument I was to use. 
Mine eyes are made the fools o' the other senses, 
Or else worth all the rest ; I see thee still, 
And on thy blade and dudgeon gouts of blood, 
Which was not so before. There's no such thing : 
It is the bloody business which informs 
Thus to mine eyes. Now o'er the one half-world 
Nature seems dead, and wicked dreams abuse 
The curtain'd sleep ; witchcraft celebrates 
Pale Hecate's offerings, and wither'd murder, 
Alarum'd by his sentinel, the wolf, 
Whose howl's his watch, thus with his stealthy pace, 
With Tarquin's ravishing strides, towards his design 
Moves like a ghost. Thou sure and firm- set earth, 
Hear not my steps, which way they walk, for fear 
Thy very stones prate of my whereabout. . . . 
I go, and it is done ; the bell invites me. 
Macbeth, n Shakespeare. 



234 THE ART OF RENDERING 



TWELFTH STEP IN RENDERING. 
RELATION OF VALUES. 

Relation of Values in speech may be likened to a 
pair of balances or scales. That which is being weighed 
receives more attention than the weights. 

Under Relation of Values may be included what is 
commtnly known as Comparisons of various kinds: — 

Antithesis — the placing of opposites together. 

Simile — declares one thing to be like another. 

Metaphor — an implied comparison. 

Ideas, Positive balanced with Negative; Heavy with 
Light ; Limited with Limitless : that which we Choose 
with what we Reject; ideas of Comparison may be 
expressed or implied in a word alone or told in a 
sentence, a paragraph, or may be a longer expression. 

Positive ideas should be made heavy and negative 
light. In debate make your own arguments weighty, 
your obponenfs arguments light — ignored as if of 
little worth. It is not best to attack the opponent *s ar- 
guments. Treat as unworthy of attack: colorless. 

Giving as good as is sent " defeats its own purpose. 

In dealing with questions of morals, make Light 
weightier than darkness ; Beauty, Goodness, Truth of 
more weight than ugliness, deformity and error. In 
life as well as expression make Positives Heavy and 
Negatives Light. Love weighs more than hate ; Good 
than evil; Light than darkness ; Life than death. 



RELATION OF VALUES 235 

In the book of Proverbs are examples of Antithesis: — 
" Better is a dry morsel, and quietness therewith, than an 
house full of sacrifices with strife. . . . 

Whoso mocketh the poor reproacheth his Maker : and 
he that is glad at calamities shall not be unpunished. 

Earth gets its price for what Earth gives us; 

The beggar is taxed for a corner to die in, 
The priest hath his fee who comes and shrives us, 

We bargain for the graves we lie in. 
At the devil's booth all things are sold, 
Each ounce of dross costs its ounce of gold ; 

For a cap and bells our lives we pay, 
Bubbles we buy with a whole soul's tasking ; 

'Tis heaven alone that is given away, 
Tis only God may be had for the asking. 
No price is set on the lavish summer 
June may be had by the poorest comer. 
Vision of Sir Launfal. " Lowell. 

Suppose that you are the best part of England ; that you 
who have become the slaves ought to have been the masters, 
and that those who are the masters ought to have been the 
slaves ! If it is a noble and whole-hearted England whose 
bidding you are bound to do, it is well ; but if you are your- 
selves the best of her heart, and the England you have left 
be but a half-hearted England, how say you of your 
obedience ? You were too proud to become shop-keepers ; 
are you satisfied then to become the servants of shop-keep- 
ers ? You were too proud to become merchants or farmers; 
will you have merchants or farmers for your field-marshals ? 
You imagine yourselves to be the army of England : how, 
if you should find yourselves at last only the police of her 
manufacturing towns, and the beadles of her little Bethels? 

Address at Royal Military Academy '. " Ruskin. 



236 THE ART OF RENDERING 

In rendering the Simile, hold up the idea that is being 
likened to another or to several others with greater prom- 
inence than anything else with which it is likened or com- 
pared. It is a fault to reverse this order and allow the 
mind to be so taken with the elaborate notions used in the 
comparison as to lose. sight of the prime idea. This chief 
idea, as it is put in the balances and weighed with one idea 
after another, should be held in the mind throughout the 
entire process, even if a paragraph long, as of more value 
than anything, or all things with which it is compared. 

They came, and Eudora stood robed and crowned, 
The bride of the morn, with her train around. 
Jewels flashed out from her braided hair, 
Like starry dews midst the roses there ; 
Pearls on her bosom quivering shone, 
Heaved by her heart through its golden zone ; 
But a brow, as those gems of the ocean pale, 
Gleamed from beneath her transparent veil ; 
Changeful and faint was her fair cheek's hue, 
Tho' clear as a flower which the light looks through. 
Bride of the Greek Isle. " Mrs. Hemans. 

The tent was unlooped; I pulled up the spear that ob- 
structed, and under 1 stooped. . . I groped my way on. 

" Here is David, thy servant ! " And no voice replied. 
At the first I saw naught but the blackness ; but soon I de- 
scried a something more black than the blackness — the 
vast, the upright main prop which sustains the pavilion: 
and slow into sight grew a figure against it, gigantic and 
blackest of all. Then a sunbeam, that burst through the 
tent-roof, showed Saul. He stood as erect as that tent-prop, 
both arms stretched out wide on the great cross-support in 
the centre, that goes to each side ; he relaxed not a muscle 
but hung there *s, caught in his pangs and waiting his 



RELATION OF VALUES 237 

change, the king serpent all heavily hangs, far away from his 
kind, in the pine, till deliverance come with the spring- 
time, — so agonized Saul, drear and stark, blind and dumb. 
Saul. " Robert Browning. 

There is sweet musw here that softer falls 
Than petals from blown roses on the grass, 
Or night-dews on still waters between walls 
Of shadowy granite, in a gleaming pass ; 
Music that gentlier on the spirit lies, 
Than tir'd eyelids upon tir'd eyes. 
" The Lotos- Eaters. " Tennyson. 

In metaphor hold the thought all through the compar 
ison on the real idea thus contrasted: — 

The Lord is my shepherd ; I shall not want. He maketh 
me to lie down in green pastures : he leadeth me beside the 
still waters. He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the 
paths of righteousness for his name's sake. Yea, though I 
walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear 
no evil : for thou art with me ; thy rod and thy staff they 
comfort me. 

Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine 
enemies : thou anointest my head with oil ; my cup runneth 
over. Surely Goodness and Mercy shall follow me all the 
days of my life : and I will dwell in the house of the Lord 
forever. — " A Song of Trust. " Twenty-third Psalm. 

I, writing thus, am still what men call young ; 

I have not so far left the coasts of life 

To travel inland, that I cannot hear 

That murmur of the water infinite 

Which un weaned babies smile at in their sleep, 

When wondered at for smiling. — Mrs. Browning. 



238 THE ART OF RENDERING 

All that I know 

Of a certain star 
Is, it can throw 

( Like the angled spar ) 
Now a dart of red, 

Now a dart of blue ; 
Till my friends have said 

They would fain see, too, 
My star that dartles the red and the blue ! 
Then it stops like a bird ; like a flower, 

hangs furled : 
They must solace themselves with the 
Saturn above it. 
What matter to me if their star is a world? 
Mine has opened its soul to me ; therefore 
I love it. 
" My Star. " Robert Browning, 

Make positive ideas heavier than negative ideas. — 

" Your words have been stout against me, " saith the 
Lord. " Yet ye say, * What have we spoken so much against 
thee? ' Ye have said, ' It is vain to serve God : and what 
profit is it that we have kept his ordinance, and that we have 
walked mournfully before the Lord of hosts ? And now 
we call the proud happy ; yea, they that work wickedness 
are set up ; yea, they that tempt God are even delivered. ' " 

Then they that feared the Lord spake often one to 
another : and the Lord hearkened, and heard it, and a book 
of remembrance was written before him for them that 
feared the Lord, and that thought upon his name- 

" And they shall be mine, " saith the Lord of hosts, 
" in that day when I make up my jewels ; and I will spare 
them, as a man spareth his own son that serveth him. 
Then shall ye return, and discern between the righteous 



RELATION OF VALUES 239 

and the wicked, between him that serveth God and him 
that serveth him not. " Malachi. 

Reflected in the lake, I love 

To see the stars of evening glow, 
So tranquil in the heavens above, 

So restless in the wave below. 
Thus heavenly hope is all serene, 

But earthly hope, how bright soe'er, 
Still fluctuates o'er this changing scene, 

As false and fleeting as 'tis fair. Heber, 

In the tempest of life, when the wave and the gale 
Are around and above, if thy footing should fail — 
If thine eyes should grow dim, and thy caution depart — 
Look aloft, and be firm, and be fearless of heart. 

If the friend who embraced in prosperity's glow, 
With a smile for each joy and a tear for each woe, 
Should betray thee when sorrows, like clouds, are arrayed, 
Look aloft to the friendship which never shall fade. 

Should the visions which hope spreads in light to thine eye, 
Like the tints of the rainbow, but brighten to fly, 
Then turn, and, through tears of repentant regret, 
Look aloft to the sun that is never to set. 

Should they who are nearest and dearest thy heart — 
Thy friends and companions — in sorrow depart, 
Look aloft from the darkness and dust of the tomb, 
To that soil where " affection is ever in bloom. " 

And oh, when Death comes in his terrors, to cast 
His fears on the future, his pall on the past, 
In that moment of darkness, with hope in thy heart, 
And a smile in thine eye, Look aloft, and depart. 
" Look Aloft. " /. Lawre?ice. 



240 THE ART OF RENDERING 

SELF-DEPENDENCE. 

Weary of myself, and sick of asking 
What I am, and what I ought to be, 
At this vessel's prow I stand, which bears me 
Forward, forward, o'er the starlit sea. 

And a look of passionate desire 

O'er the sea and to the stars I send ; 

" Ye who from my childhood up have calm'd me, 

Calm me, ah, compose me to the end ! 

Ah, once more, " I cried " ye stars, ye waters, 
On my heart your mighty charm renew ; 
Still, still let me, as I gaze upon you, 
Feel my soul becoming vast like you ! " 

From the intense, clear, star-sown vault of heaven, 
Over the lit sea's unquiet way, 
In the rustling night air came the answer, — 
" Wouldst thou be as these are ? Live as they. 

Unaffrighted by the silence round them, 
Undistracted by the sights they see, 
These demand not that the things without them 
Yield them love, amusement, sympathy. 

And with joy the stars perform their shining, 
And the sea its long moon-silver'd roll ; 
For self-poised they live, nor pine with noting 
All the fever of some differing soul. 

Bounded by themselves, and unregardful 
In what state God's other works may be, 
In their own tasks all their powers pouring, 
These attain the mighty life you see. " 



RELATION OF VALUES 241 

O air-born voice ! long since, severely clear, 
A cry like thine in mine own heart I hear ; 
" Resolve to be thyself ; and know that he 
"Who finds himself loses his misery ! " 

Matthew Arnold. 



PURE, COLD WATER. 

There, there is the liquor which God, the Eternal, brews 
for all his children. Not in the simmering still, over smoky 
fires, choked with poisonous gases, surrounded with the 
stench of sickening odors and corruptions, doth your Fa- 
ther in heaven prepare the precious essence of life — pure, 
cold water ; but in the green glade and grassy dell, where 
the red deer wanders, and the child loves to play, there God 
brews it : and down, low down in the deepest valleys, where 
the fountain murmurs and the rills sing ; and high upon 
the mountain tops, where the naked granite glitters like gold 
in the sun, where the storm-cloud broods and the thunder- 
storms crash ; and far out on the wide, wild sea, where the 
hurricane howls music, and the big waves roll the chorus, 
sweeping the march of God — there He brews it, that bev- 
erage of life — health-giving water. 

And everywhere it is a thing of life and beauty — gleam- 
ing in the dew-drop ; singing in the summer rain ; shining 
in the ice-gem,till the trees all seem turned to living jewels ; 
spreading a golden veil over the setting sun, or a white gauze 
around the midnight moon ; sporting in the cataract ; folding 
its bright snow-curtains softly about the wintery world ; 
and weaving the many-colored bow, that seraph's zone of 
the sky — whose warp is the raindrop of the earth, whose 
woof is the sunbeam of heaven, all checked over with the 
celestial flowers, by the mystic hand of refraction. 



242 THE ART OF RENDERING 

Still always it is beautiful, that blessed life-water! No 
poison bubbles on its brink ; its foam brings not madness 
and murder; no blood stains its limpid glass; pale widows 
and starving orphans weep not burning tears in its depths ; 
no drunkard's shrieking ghost, from the grave, curses it in 
the words of eternal despair! Speak out, my friends: 
would you exchange it for the demon's drink, alcohol ? A 
shout like the roar of the tempest, answered, " No ! " 

John B. Gough. 



CIVIC RIGHTS FOR THE JEWS. 

My honorable friend has appealed to us as Christians. 
Let me, then, ask him how he understands that great com- 
mandment which comprises the law and the prophets. Can 
we be said to do unto others as we would that they should 
do unto us, if we inflict on them even the smallest pain ? 
As Christians, surely we are bound to consider, first, whether, 
by excluding the Jews from all public trust we give them 
pain ; and, secondly, whether it be necessary to give them 
that pain in order to avert some greater evil. That by ex- 
cluding them from public trusl; we inflict pain on them, my 
honorable friend will not dispute. As a Christian, therefore, 
he is bound to relieve them from pain, unless he can show, 
what I am sure he has not yet shown, that it is necessary 
to the general good that they should continue' to suffer. 

" But where, " he says, " are you to stop, if once you ad- 
mit into the House of Commons people who deny the au- 
thority of the Gospels ? Will you let in a Mussulman ? 
Will you let in a Parsee? Will you let in a Hindoo, who 
worships a lump of stone with seven heacls? " I will an- 
swer my honorable friend's question by another. Where 
does he mean to stop. Is he ready to roast unbelievers at 
slow fires? If not let him tell us why ; and I will engage 



RELATION OF VALUES 243 

to prove that his reason is just as decisive against the intol- 
erance which he thinks a duty as against the intolerance 
which he thinks a crime. Once admit that we are bound 
to inflict pain on a man because he is not of our religion, 
and where are you to stop ? Why stop at the point fixed 
by my honorable friend rather than at the point fixed by 
the honorable member for Oldham (Cobbett,) who would 
make the Jews incapable of holding land ? 
And why stop at the point fixed by the honorable member 
for Oldham rather than at the point which would have been 
fixed by a Spanish inquisitor of the sixteenth century ? 
When once you enter on a course of persecution, I defy you 
to find any reason for making a halt till you have reached 
the extreme point. When my honorable friend tells us 
that he will allow the Jews to possess property to any a- 
mount, but that he will not allow them to possess the small- 
est political power, he holds contradictory language. 
Property is power 

" But, u says my honorable friend, " it has been proph- 
esied that the Jews are to be wanderers on the face of the 
earth, and that they are not to mix on terms of equality 
with the people of the countries in which they sojourn. " 
Now, sir, I am confident that I can demonstrate that this is 
not the sense of any prophecy which is part of Holy Writ. 
For it is an undoubted fact, that in the United States of 
America Jewish citizens do possess all the privileges pos- 
sessed by Christian citizens. Therefore, if the prophecies 
mean that the Jews never shall, during their wanderings, 
be admitted by other nations to equal participation of 
political rights, the prophecies are false. But the proph- 
ecies are certainly not false. Therefore their meaning 
cannot be that which is attributed to them by my honorable 
friend 

Nobody knows better than my honorable friend, the mem- 



244 THE ART OF RENDERING 

ber for the University of Oxf ord, that there is nothing 
in their national character which unfits them for the high- 
est duties of citizens. He knows, that in the infancy of 
civilization, when our island was as savage as New Guinea, 
when letters and arts were still unknown to Athens, when 
scarcely a thatched hut stood on what was after the site of 
Rome, this contemned people had their fenced cities and 
cedar palaces, their splendid temple, their fleets of merchant 
ships, their schools of sacred learning, their great statesmen 
and soldiers, their natural philosopheis, their historians, and 
their poets. What nation ever contended more manfully 
against overwhelming odds for its independence and religion ? 
What nation ever, in its last agonies, gave such signal proofs 
of what maybe accomplished by a brave despair? And if, 
in the course of many centuries, the oppressed descendants 
of warriors and sages have degenerated from the qualities 
of their fathers, if, while excluded from the blessings of 
law, and bowed down under the yoke of slavery, they have 
contracted some of the vices of outlaws and of slaves, shall 
we consider this as matter of reproach to them ? Shall we 
not rather consider it as matter of shame and remorse to 
ourselves? Let us do justice to them. Let us open to 
them the door of the House of Commons. Let us open to 
them every career in which ability and energy can be dis- 
played. Till we have done this, let us not presume to say 
that there is no genius among the countrymen of Isaiah, 
no heroism among the descendants of the Maccabees. 

Lord Macaulay. 



There is a decisive instant in all matters ; and if you 
look languidly, you are sure to miss it. Nature seems 
always, somehow, trying to make you miss it. " I will 
see that through, " you must say, " without turning my 
head ; " or you won't see the trick of it at all. — Ruskin. 



VOLUME OF VOICE 245 

THIRTEENTH STEP IN RENDERING. 
VOLUME OF VOICE. 

Volume of Voice comes from volume of thought and 
feeling. It has to do with noble emotions : sublimity, 
reverence, adoration, grandeur, poetic fervor, patriotic 
sentiment, when uttered with a deep under-current of 
feeling. Unlike the Conversational and the Dramatic 
Styles which deal with the commonplace, Volume of 
Voice is used in exalted, dignified expressions, therefore 
is used in the Oratorical Style. 

Oratory comes from " orare, " ( to speak in a pleading 
manner. ) The emotional element makes it truly elo- 
quent. " Oratory is the flowering, the culminating of all 
the graces of expression, the flowering of the virtues. 
Oratory may be compared to the discoursing of grand 
music, to an organ with a thousand stops, moving the 
profoundest of human emotions. " Oratory requires 
a knowledge of expression of body and the arts of voice, 
gesture, and mastery of the same, beside, a soul well 
stored with burning thoughts and feelings. 

The expression must be simplicity itself, suggesting 
and awakening thought and feeling in the subtlest, 
simplest manner, concealing all effort. Oratory requires 
concentrated energy and skill such as is used by 
the singer who renders grand and noble music with 
few but dignified outward movements. " The highest 
art is to conceal art. " 



246 THE ART OF RENDERING 

It has been said of Orators : — Cicero, — a conflagration. 
Demosthenes, — a hurricane. Saint Paul, — a god of 
eloquence. Clay, — fiery, magnetic. Spurgeon, — voice 
fine, magnetic. Webster,— while perspiration ran down 
his face; his body was in comparative quietude — his eyes 
burned, yet repose seemed the normal condition. 

Lacardaire, — voice at first feeble — clear, massive, sus- 
ceptible of force and passion, grew more fervent, deepened 
and strengthened to a wonderful degree. He began simply, 
suddenly took a turn like lightning; he was seized and the 
listener carried with him. Not learning by heart, it was a 
soul that broke forth like a tide through the walls of flesh, 
and cast itself reckless and desperate into the soul of an- 
other ; this is greater than speech. Eloquence is the soul 
which takes the place of our own. Extemporaneous speech 
takes the head from the shoulders. 

STUDY FOR VOLUME OF VOICE. 

We may have wondered why the charming gift, as it is 
called, of Oratory is so rare that only two or three real and 
truly great Orators appear in a generation. Something 
may be wrong. The seed for producing this choice species 
may be planted wrong-side-out. We do know that when 
the average student — they with graduating orations not 
excepted — attempts to render the Oratorical style, he 
stiffens his muscles and assumes a swollen appearance 
which can be compared to nothing in all the field of nature 
and art but a turkey gobbler on parade. He declaims in 
a loud, strained voice, destitute of that which charms. 
Nor is the student alone deluded into the " wrong-side-out " 
style. It is much to be regretted that finished scholars thus 
abuse their mother tongue. The man of holy orders too 
often voices the sacred message in a most unholy way. We 



VOLUME OF VOICE 247 

are all familiar with what is known as the " ministerial 
tone* " ( They who employ such tones, as a natural result 
are often afflicted with "clergyman's sore throat. " ) 
It so happens our best examples are poor guides to imitate. 

The best guide must come from within yourself. 

In the practical drill for Volume of Voice, much depends 
on getting the right start. The point of difference between 
the right way and the wrong way is apparently so small 
at the start, one may easily miss the right way. Here, as in 
the other studies, let the mind not only lead but let it com- 
pel the voice. Make no effort to use a large voice. Only 
as the sublime ideas possess the soul causing it to respond, 
will the voice respond and expand naturally. Volume can 
not be " put on " without positive injury. 

Let us illustrate somewhat the mental side of our work 
for volume, using for our study " The Ocean, " by Byron, 
which follows. First go through it contrasting the ordinary, 
commonplace ideas with the grand, sublime ideas ; the lim- 
ited with the limitless. The " drop of rain, " " snowy 
flake, " etc. limited. Send the mind out in an effort to take 
in the " glorious mirror where the Almighty's form glasses 
( reflects ) itself. " Try to see the limitless ideas reflected 
in this boundless mirror. Then the mind must reach out 
still beyond the vast deep to the unknowable, " the image 
of eternity, " " the throne of the Invisible. " Make vast 
and limitless all that refers in any way to the Ocean, — the 
pronouns and all. Concentrate the mind many times on 
the pictures before attempting to read it aloud, then read 
ideas instead of words, letting the voice respond naturally. 
As the mental grows in ability to expand and respond will 
the voice expand and grow in volume. Do not force the 
voice ; let the mind lead ; be content to take time to grow; 
repeat, repeat, repeat the concentration of the mind on the 
sublime pictures then respond honestly as you are impressed. 



248 THE ART OF RENDERING 

Volume of Voice may be cultivated in another way in 
connection with the foregoing study. Impersonate, in the 
private study, some great, dignified character, orator or states- 
man with some grave or noble feeling dominant. For ex- 
ample : with costume, manner and voice play Brutus in the 
orchard scene in " Julius Caesar. " Try to comprehend 
the dignity and majesty of his noble character and the deep 
emotions ruling him as he contemplates, for the good of 
Rome, the assassination of Csesar. Let the mental concep- 
tion of the character dominate the voice. 

The student may gain a point of advantage in practice 
for Volume of Voice by getting first the pitch, as in singing. 
For low pitch say — " awe, awe, awe, " prolong, feel the 
vibration in the chest by placing the hand there. Get the 
pitch very gently. Do not force the voice. 

By making use of only the two studies named — " The 
Ocean " and " Brutus in the Orchard " — as a drill exercise, 
voices have been wonderfully improved. This drill must 
always be more of a mental than a vocal gymnastic. Ever 
aim for intensity rather than loudness for herein lies 
the secret of success. This order reversed defeats either the 
novice or the sage. 

After the student is once sure that he has made the right 
start training the voice for volume, while he should contin- 
ue the drill on the first studies, he may take up new studies. 
Look for the sublime in nature, ideas of the Deity, abstract, 
limitless ideas of Patriotism, Love, as in I Corinthians XIII, 
Judgment, Conviction of Sin, Sense of Duty, etc. Expres- 
sions of ignoble passion is never allowed in Oratory. 

As Oratory is the highest form of human expression, the 
student can well afford to pay the price of earnest effort. 

Grand, sublime thought and feeling given out with a 
deep mellow voice and with intensity behind it has power 
to ennoble. Deep voice moves like the deep toned organ. 



VOLUME OF VOICE 249 



THE OCEAN. 

Eoll on, thou deep and dark blue Ocean — roll ! 
Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in -vain ; 
Man marks the earth with ruin — his control 
Stops with the shore ; upon the watery plain 
The wrecks are all thy deed, nor doth remain 
A shadow of man's ravage, save his own, 
When, for a moment, like a drop of rain , 
He sinks into thy depths with bubbling groan, 
Without a grave, unknelled, uncoffined, and unknown. 

The armaments which thunderstrike the walls 
Of rock-built cities, bidding nations quake, 
And monarchs tremble in their capitals ; 
The oak leviathans, whose huge ribs make 
Their clay creator the vain title take 
Of lord of thee, and arbiter of war : 
These are thy toys, and, as the snowy flake, 
They melt into thy yeast of waves, which mar 
Alike the Armada's pride, or spoils of Trafalgar. 

Thy shores are empires, changed in all save thee — 
Assyria, Greece, Rome, Carthage, — what are they ? 
Thy waters wasted them while they were free, 
And many a tyrant since ; their shores obey 
The stranger, slave, or savage ; their decay 
Has dried up realms to deserts : not so thou ; 
Unchangeable, save to thy wild waves' play — 
Time writes no wrinkle on thine azure brow — 
Such as creation's dawn beheld, thou rollest now. 

Thou glorious mirror, where the Almighty's form 

Glasses itself in tempests ; in all time, 

Calm or convulsed — in breeze, or gale, or storm, 



250 THE ART OF RENDERING 

Icing the pole, or in the torrid clime 

Dark-heaving ; — boundless, endless and sublime — 

The image of Eternity — the throne 

Of the Invisible ; even from out thy slime 

The monsters of the deep are made ; each zone 

Obeys thee : thou goest forth, dread, fathomless, alone. 

And I have loved thee, Ocean ! and my joy 
Of youthful sport was on thy breast to be 
Borne, like thy bubbles, onward : from a boy 
I wantoned with thy breakers — they to me 
Were a delight ; and if thy freshening sea 
Made them a terror, 'twas a pleasing fear ; 
For I was, as it were, a child of thee, 
And trusted to thy billows far and near, 
And laid my hand upon thy mane — as I do here. 

Lord Byron. 



BRUTUS IN THE ORCHARD. 

It must be by his death : and, for my part, 
I know no personal cause to spurn at him, 
But for the general. He would be crowned: — 
How that might change his nature, there's the 

question : 
It is the bright day that brings forth the adder, 
And that craves wary walking. Crown him ? — that ; 
And then, I grant, we put a sting in him, 
That at his will he may do danger with. 
The abuse of greatness is, when it disjoins 
Remorse from power : and, to speak truth of Caesar, 
I have not known when his affections swayed 
More than his reason. But 'tis a common proof, 



VOLUME OF VOICE 251 

That lowliness is young ambition's ladder, 
Whereto the climber- up ward turns his face ; 
But when he once attains the upmost round, 
He then unto the ladder turns his back, 
Looks in the clouds, scorning the base degrees, 
By which he did ascend. So Csesar may : 
Then, lest he may, prevent. And, since the quarrel 
Wiil bear no colour for the thing he is, 
Fashion it thus : that what he is, augmented, 
Would run to these and these extremities : 
And therefore think him as a serpent's egg, 
Which, hatched, would as his kind grow mischievous; 

And kill him in the shell 

The exhalations whizzing in the air 
Give so much light that I may read by them. 

( Opens letter, and reads. ) 
' Brutus, thou sleep 'st : awake, and see thyself. 
Shall Rome, &c. —Speak, strike, redress ! ' 
' Brutus, thou sleep'st : awake! '— 
Such instigations have been often dropped 
Where I have took them up. 
' Shall Rome, &c. ' Thus must I piece it out : 
Shall Rome stand under one man's awe? What, 

Rome? 
My ancestors did from the streets of Rome 
The Tarquin drive, when he was called a king. 
1 Speak, strike, redress ! ' — Am I entreated 
To speak, and strike ? O Rome, I make thee promise, 
If the redress will follow, thou receiv'st 
Thy full petition at the hand of Brutus. . . . 

Between the acting of a dreadful thing 
And the first motion, all the interim is 
Like a phantasma or a hideous dream . 
" Julius Caesar. " Shakespeare, 



252 THE ART OF RENDERING 

VOICES OF THE SEA. 

The sea with all its moods has a perpetual charm for the 
traveler. It speaks to him of God and man. Its depths, 
its breadths, its fullness, its waves are constantly saying, 
" The sea is His, and He made it. " In its changing 
moods are reflected all the experiences of mankind. Peace 
is reflected in its calm, trouble in its storms, joy in its corus- 
cation, and life in its movement. 

There is the voice of affliction. The Psalmist was pass- 
ing through deep trouble when he sang, " All thy waves 
and thy billows are gone over me. " It suggests the picture 
of a storm at sea when the mightiest ship is tossed like a 
cockle shell upon the billows, and washed from bow to stern 
by the waves. It speaks of consecutive troubles like wave 
following wave, and billow following billow. " Misfortunes 
come not single spies ,but in battalions. " When the storm 
lashes the sea into fury and lifts the waters into dangerous 
heights it would seem as if calm could never again be restor- 
ed, and that everything in the path of the waves must per- 
ish. It is then that the sea spells trouble and furnishes an 
unparalleled picture of affliction. Behind the hand of God 
is the heart of God : therefore the Psalmist sings, " The 
Lord will command his loving kindness in the daytime, and 
in the night his song shall be with me. " When the voice 
of the sea of trouble is answered by the voice of hope and 
faith and praise, there is victory for the soul even when 
temporarily overwhelmed by affliction. 

There is the voice of unrest. It was the prophet Isaiah 
who said : " The wicked are like the troubled sea, when it 
cannot rest, whose waters cast up mire and dirt. There is 
no peace, saith my God, to the wicked. " The restlessness 
of the sea is one of the features which impresses the traveler. 
It is never still. Either the wind, the sun, or the currents 
keep it constantly in motion. It is the prey of every out- 



VOLUME OF VOICE 25S 

side and inside influence. The winds toss it about with ease, 
the tides draw it around the world, the currents divert its 
waters where they will. So it is with the wicked. They 
have no peace, because peace is the result of balance, poise, 
power, and there can be none of these in the life of the 
wicked, since they are out of center, out of harmony with 
God. 

There is the voice of pardon. It was another prophet 
who said, " Thou wilt cast all their sins into the depths of 
the sea. " This is a beautiful picture of the forgiveness of 
sins. It speaks of the fullness and the finality of forgive- 



There is the voice of resurrection. In the apocalyptic vi- 
sion of John he saw the sea giving up the dead and heard 
the voice of resurrection. We cannot look at the sea 
without beholding the grave of unnumbered multitudes 
who have died at sea. No slab marks their last resting 
place, no casket holds their remains, no flowers decorate 
their graves. Their bodies lie in the deep cathedral cav- 
erns of the sea and the subterranean voices of the ocean 
chant their requiem. But the day is coming when the sea 
shall give up the dead that are in it And so the sea speaks 
of resurrection. 

There is the voice of consummation. It was the seer of 
Patmos who also anticipated the time when there shall be 
no more sea. The new earth is to have no sea. In this 
glorious consummation there is to be no salt sea separating 
friends, and no salt tears, for God shall wipe away all tears 
from their eyes, and death shall be no more : neither shall 
there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain any more. 
The first things are passed away. 

These are the voices of the sea. May you hear the voice 
of God in them and, hearing, may you be saved and com- 
forted. Rev. John A. Earl, D. D. 



254 THE ART OF RENDERING 

CHKISTIAN EDUCATION. 

When a youth, I read of the Alps and their majestic splen 
dor until it became a passion to see their star-pricking 
peaks. At last my ambition was gratified. Arriving in 
Lausanne and gazing southward over Lake Geneva, I saw 
the wonderful, far-famed glories of the " White Giants. " 
Beyond the lower mountains were the higher, in successive 
crystal galleries as if they were the stairs to the Gate of 
Pearl. They exceeded in grandeur my wildest dreams, and 
my imagination transformed them into all manner of crea- 
tions ; they were immense candles which some tall angel 
lit every morning with the first ray of light, and in the 
evening they blazed with the last flames of day ; they were 
stupendous pillars supporting the walls of the City of Gold ; 
they were Titanic Colossi lifting their shoulders through 
the clouds to support the sky lest it fall. I hastened to ap- 
proach them, to walk in the valleys where trailed their 
white robes and worship in the vestibule of their splendor. 
I confess, however, to a disappointment ; distance had given 
them an enchantment ; for their crystalline heights hid the 
sun and cast a shadow on all beneath. They sent down 
over their uncouth and ragged sides rivers of ice, cold as the 
stream of death, the terrible avalanche, grinding, crushing, 
and destroying every vestige of life and beauty it touched ; 
its path is the highway of destruction, and its presence the 
blight of winter. 

Far more attractive to me was the placid river meander- 
ing through the valleys and meadows, quickening the life 
of trees and the beauty of flowers, distilling health, joy and 
manifold blessings whither-so-ever it flowed. I could almost 
forgive my fellowman for kneeling in affectionate devotion 
and worshiping the river. 

There is an education that dares the vision and inspires 



VOLUME OF VOICE 255 

the wonderment of the common people; it beckons the 
student to tread its dizzy heights and " become as Gods; '» 
but its throne is the icy brain, there is no life in its light, 
nor sympathy in its radiance. Its influence blights the 
bloom of hope and faith in the soul ; it chills the atmos- 
phere where spiritual emotions and aspirations germ and 
grow and they shrivel ; it nurtures no moral virtues and 
fosters no spiritual graces. It is a glare that blinds the 
soul so it can no longer " see God " for that is the bless- 
edness of the " pure in heart ; " and the heart has not been 
helped to the measure of stirring one pulse-beat to " make 
for righteousness. " This is not the learning and education 
that develops the student into " a perfect man unto the 
measure of the stature of the fullness of Christ. " The 
education that will accomplish this result is the need of the 
age ; the schools and colleges that furnish such education 
meet the burning need of the Kingdom of God among men, 
for it seems to flow from beneath the throne of God, freight- 
ed with the riches of Paradise. 
" Education. " Rev. H. O. Rowlands, D. D. 



GOD. 

The following poem is a translation from the Russian. It has 
been translated into Japanese by the Emperor, and is hung up, em- 
broidered with gold, in the temple of Jeddo. It has also been trans- 
lated into the Chinese and Tartar languages, written on rich silk, and 
suspended ia the Imperial palace at Pekin. 

O thou eternal One ! whose presence bright 
All space doth occupy, all motion guide ; 
Unchanged through time's all-devastating flight ; 
Thou only God ! There is no God beside ! 
Being above all beings ! Three-in-one ! 



256 THE ART OF RENDERING 

Whom none can comprehend, and none explore ; 
Who fill'st existence with Thyself alone ; 
Embracing all— supporting — ruling o'er — 
Being whom we call God — and know no more ! 

In its sublime research, philosophy- 
May measure out the ocean deep— may count 
The sands or the sun's rays — but God ! for Thee 
There is no weight nor measure ; — none can mount 
Up to Thy mysteries. Reason's brightest spark, 
Though kindled by Thy light, in vain would try 
To trace Thy counsels, infinite and dark ; 
And thought is lost ere thought can soar so high — 
E'en like past moments in eternity. 

Thou from primeval nothingness didst call, 
First chaos, then existence ; — Lord ! on Thee 
Eternity had its foundation ; — all 
Sprung forth from Thee ; — of light, joy, harmony, 
Sole origin ; — all life, all beauty, Thine. 
Thy word created all, and doth create ; 
Thy splendor fills all space with rays divine; 
Thou art, and wert, and shalt be ! Glorious, 
Light-giving, life-sustaining, Potentate! 

Thy chains the unmeasured universe surround ; 
Upheld by Thee, by Thee inspired with breath ! 
Thou the beginning with the end hast bound, 
And beautifully mingled life and death ! 
As sparks mount upward from the fiery blaze, 
So suns are born, so worlds spring forth from Thee, 
And as the spangles in the sunny rays 
Shine around the silver snow, the pageantry 
Of heaven's bright army glitters in Thy praise* 

A million torches lighted by Thy hand 
Wander unwearied through the blue abyss ; 
They own Thy power, accomplish Thy command, 



VOLUME OF VOICE 257 

All gay with life, all eloquent with bliss. 

What shall we call them ? Pyres of ciystal light — 

A glorious company of golden streams — 

Lamps of celestial ether burning bright — 

Suns lighting systems with their joyful beams ? 

But thou to these art as the noon to night. 

Yes ! as a drop of water in the sea, 
All this magnificence in Thee is lost ; — 
What are ten thousand worlds compared to Thee ? 
And what am I then ? Heaven's unnumbered host, 
Though multiplied by myriads, and arrayed 
In all the glory of sublimest thought, 
Is but an atom in the balance weighed 
Against Thy greatness, — is a cipher brought 
Against infinity ! What am I then ? Naught ! 
Naught ! But the effluence of Thy light divine, 
Pervading worlds, hath reached my bosom too ; 
Yes, in my spirit doth Thy spirit shine, 
As shines the sunbeam in a drop of dew. 

Naught ! but Llive, and on hope's pinions fly 
Eager toward Thy presence ; for in Thee 
I live, and breathe, and dwell ; aspiring high 
Even to the throne of Thy divinity. 
I am, O God ! and surely Thou must be ! 
Thou art ! directing, guiding all, Thou art ! 
Direct my understanding then to Thee ; 
Control my spirit, guide my wandering heart ; 
Though but an atom midst immensity, 
Still I am something, fashioned by Thy hand ! 
I hold a middle rank, 'twixt heaven and earth, 
On the last verge of mortal being stand, 
Close to the realm where angels have their birth, 
Just on the boundaries of the spirit land ! 
The chain of being is complete in me; 



258 THE ART OF RENDERING 

In me is matter's last gradation lost, 

And the next step is spirit — Deity ! 

I can command the lightning and am dust ! 

A monarch, and a slave ; a worm, a god ! 

Whence came I here, and how ? so marvelously 

Constructed and conceived ? Unknown ! this clod 

Lives surely through some higher energy ; 

For from itself alone it could not be ! 

Creator, yes ! Thy wisdom and Thy word 

Created me ! Thou source of life and good ! 

Thou spirit of my spirit, and my Lord ! 

Thy light, Thy love, in the bright plenitude. 

Filled me with an immortal soul, to spring 

Over the abyss of death, and bade it wear 

The garments of eternal day, and wing 

Its heavenly flight beyond the little sphere, 

Even to its source — to Thee — its author there. 

Oh thoughts ineffable ! Oh visions blest I 
Though worthless our conception all of Thee, 
Yet shall Thy shadowed image fill our breast, 
And waft its homage to Thy Deity. 
God ! thus alone my lonely thoughts can soar ; 
Thus seek Thy presence — Being wise and good, 
Midst Thy vast works admire, obey, adore ; 
And, when the tongue is eloquent no more, 
The soul shall speak in tears of gratitude. 

Derzhavin. 

PATMOS. 

It was well on in the afternoon of a spring day that our 
steamer slowly passed the Isle of Patmos. We were on our 
way northward to Smyrna, and thence on to Constantinople. 
As if to add special appropriateness to the occasion, withus> 
too, it was " the Lord's Day. " The quiet of a Sabbath hush 



VOLUME OF VOICE 259 

rested on the company of voyagers who had just bidden 
farewell to the sacred scenes of the Holy Land. It was a 
perfect day. Not a cloud rested on the peaceful sky that 
brooded over us, nor was there the ripple of a wave on the 
indescribable blue of that wondrous sea. Were it not for 
the throb and jar of the machinery, we might almost have 
supposed that the ship was at a standstill. 

Seated under the awning, with our Bibles open, the book 
of Revelation was read while the eye passed constantly from 
the printed page westward to the rocky shore where the 
things " which are written in this book " had taken place. 
It was an experience never to be forgotten. Immediately 
we had passed the island, the sun, like a great ball of fire, 
gradually approached its setting. A sunset at sea is always 
impressive, and that evening we observed it with peculiar 
interest, scarcely daring to breathe. At last the rim touched 
the waters, and instantly the whole Aegean blazed forth in- 
to shimmering pathways of golden splendor extending from 
our ship outward to the furthest edge of the distant hori- 
zon. Yes, we saw it ! " the sea of glass mingled with fire. " 

Patmos is not a large island ? It extends only some ten 
miles from north to south, but so deeply indented are its 
shores that the coast-line is thirty-seven miles in length. 
Its shape has been curiously compared to "a horse's head 
and neck, the nose pointing eastward. " It is of volcanic 
origin. The island gathers into three main mountain masses 
of brown rock, bare, jagged, desolate, its highest summit at- 
taining a height of about 950 feet. Its pagan insignificance 
is indicated by the fact that it is referred to only thrice in 
classical literature, and then receives but the barest mention. 
As if unknown to the world even at the time of the Apoca- 
lypse, John speaks of it as " the isle called Patmos. " 

But greatness does not depend upon the bulk. Once in 
our world's history the curtains parted from before that 



260 THE ART OF RENDERING 

" lone rocky isle of the sea, " and disclosed the last white- 
haired survivor of the Apostolic band walking along its 
heights with his glorified Lord, and then slowly the cur- 
tains closed again. It was enough. We would not part with 
this one vision for half the history of the world. No island 
on our planet after this can ever begin to compare with 
it for interest. Down to the end of time it will occupy 
a leading place in immortal story, and the heart of the 
world will ever beat faster because of the unveiling of the 
unseen that was there revealed. 
" Patmos Letters. " Dr. John L, Campbell. 



PEACE ON EARTH. 

The Christian Church has no greater message to utter in 
the councils of nations, with all the emphasis and moral 
authority within her power, than the words of Jesus to Peter 
" Put up again thy sword into its place, " and making her 
way through forts and fortifications, over ramparts and 
battlements, brushing aside guns and bayonets, reach the 
people of these Christian lands, and stir them in the name 
of the Lord with the challenge " Let us have peace. M 

Just think of some of the evils and horrors of war, 
evils and horrors that the civilized world ought to re- 
member, instead of being absorbed with the glittering glories 
of war. Think of the desolation of the ravaged battle-zones, 
the paralysis of industry and commerce, and the reckless 
destruction of property that travel with contending armies. 
Think of the suffering and sacrifice, not only of those fight- 
ing at the front, but of those martyrs of the home left be- 
hind. Think of the savage passions aroused in the hearts 
of the victors, and the hatred and vindictiveness born and 
nursed in the hearts of the vanquished. Think of the cost 



VOLUME OF VOICE 261 

in men and money, in what President David Starr Jordan 
affirms is the best and bravest of a country's manhood, and 
in the millions of money the rest of the nation must toil 
and slave to provide, taking the bread from the mouth 
of the children to satisfy the ferocity of the dogs of war ; 
and think, consider, realize that all this and much, Oh! 
much more, is the tribute paid by Christian nations to bar- 
barism, paid for the most part to avoidable, unnecessary, un- 
justifiable, intolerable barbarism. Think, I say, and induce 
others to think of the cruel cost of war, war that after all 
cannot settle moral issues, for arbitrament of war only de- 
cides who is strong, not who is wrong, war only establishes 
the dominance of might, not of right. Without going into 
the harrowing recital of the awful cost in shattered bodies, 
and broken hearts, and shadowed homes, and weakened 
and burdened states, think of the crushing cost in money, 
think of the wealth of the rich and the blood of the poor, 
yea, the very blood of the multitudes that must needs be 
poured out to sustain, but never to satisfy, the barbarism of 
militarism. Think what it means to the social and eco- 
nomic life of the people that seventy-two ( 72 ) per cent, of 
our governmental expenditures is for war, war in its prepa- 
rations and war in its results. 

And what for ? We don't want to fight anybody, and 
nobody wants to fight us. We were never invaded in the 
time of our weakness, and we are surely not likely to be in 
these times of our might, and as for our Island Possessions, 
there is very little danger of anybody stealing them over- 
night. 

Do you realize that every one of our foreign wars was 
fought on our initiative, and that not one would be able to 
justify itself to-day before a court of moral conscience, not 
one? The war of 1812 with England was unnecessary and 
fruitless ; that of 1846 with Mexico was fruitful, but un- 



262 THE ART OF RENDERING 

just and unjustifiable, and that of 1898 with Spain was al- 
truistic, but jingoish, unnecessary, and never would have 
broken out but that the explosion of the ill-fated " Maine r 
let loose the passions of our people, and tore the reins 
out of the hands of reason and justice. 

War belongs to animalism, not to humanism ; to barbar- 
ism, not to civilization, most positively not to Christian 
civilization ; to the brutal reign cf might, not to the gracious 
reign of right ; to the night of the past, not to the day of 
the coming age. Washington said " My first wish is to see 
this plague of mankind banished from the earth. " 
Jefferson declared " I abhor war, and view it as the great 
est scourge of mankind. " Grim old Sherman, who ought 
to know, said " The glory of war is all moonshine, war is 
hell, " and General Grant, our conquering glory-crowned 
soldier, uttered this conviction " There never was a time 
when, in my opinion, some way could not have been found 
of preventing the drawing of the sword. " 

Surely, surely, surely, disciples of Jesus Christ, followers 
of the Prince of Peace should show the world a more ex- 
cellent way, and teach the nations to lay aside the crimes 
of war, and learn together the graces of brotherhood. 

'* In time of peace prepare for war " is a relic of pagan- 
ism, and belongs to by-gone ages when every foreigner was 
an enemy and every stranger a foe. Wisdom and common 
sense should laugh such an adage to scorn in these enlight- 
ened days. In the time of peace prepare to perpetuate peace. 
But to be forever thinking of war and talking of war and 
writing of war and planning for war and preparing for war 
is a preposterous way of insuring peace. Nay, let us think 
of peace and talk of peace and write of peace and plan foi 
peace and prepare for peace, then we shall have peace. 

A hundred years ago we entered into agreement with one 
of the mightiest nations of earth, with a border line extend 



VOLUME OF VOICE 263 

ingfour thousand miles along the entire length of our north- 
ern frontier, not to build a single fort on either side, nor 
float a single warship on the great lakes, and for a century 
these two countries, the United States of America and the 
Dominion of Canada, with the whole of the British Empire 
behind her, have lived in undisturbed peace, with an un- 
protected frontier reaching clear across the widest stretch 
of the continent. Do you think that this story of a cen- 
tury of bloodless and peaceful history could have been 
written, if in times of peace the great Republic and the 
mighty Empire had been preparing for war, if each had been 
vying with the other to see who could raise the most formi- 
dable fortifications, and build the most destructive floating 
fortresses, and had looked at each other through the glis- 
tening bore of frowning guns threateningly pointed at each 
other ? No, not without a miracle that no one has a right 
to expect from God, and any ground at all to hope for from 
men. Here is a concrete example of complete disarm- 
ament tested by the experience of a hundred years, and 
what we have done with England in Canada, why may we 
not do, in large measure, with England elsewhere, and with 
other nations everywhere. The Church of the Prince of 
Peace, speaking the language of love and justice, stands 
forth in the Parliament of the Nations, and declares that 
there is a better way to establish honorable and prosperous 
peace than by killing and slaughtering our fellowmen, and 
that there are better defences than armies and navies, battle- 
ments and battleships, for " Unto us a child is born . . 
the government shall be upon his shoulder : and his name 
shall be called . . . Prince of Peace. " " He shall 
judge between nations, and they shall beat their swords in- 
to plowshares and their spears into pruning hooks ; nation 
shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they 
learn war any more. " Rev. Samuel J. Skevington. 



264 THE ART OF RENDERING 



FOURTEENTH STEP IN RENDERING. 
LYRIC. 

Lyric Poetry is the poetry of self-expression : love, 
hatred, anger, grief, and other e?notions are its distinc- 
tive subjects. Lyrics are both sacred and secular: 
Psalms and Hymns are sacred lyrics. Unity of this 
style requires that the poem be limited to the expression 
of a single emotio7i coloring the whole poem. The mete* 
should be suggested by the subject. 

An Ode is a lyric where exalted feeling is expressed. 
It is the " voice of poetry in frenzy. " Odes may also 
be either sacred or secular. One of the finest Odes is 
WordswortHs " Imitations of Immortality. " 

An Elesyis a lyric with melancholy feeling. Gray's 
Elegy; " In Memotiam, " Tennyson ; " Thyrsis, " 
Matthew Arnold. 

A Sonnet is a little song, ( poets ecstasy ) is a lyric of 
fourteen lines. The Sonnet expresses a single sentiment. 

All forms of Lyric Poetry are subjective, dealing with 
feelings rather than that which is objective or what 
appeals to the outer senses. As this style is subjective, 
the action of the whole being is concentric. In medi 
tative selections the body folds up as to arms and limbs, 
the eye looks into the heights or the depths, in a " brown 
study. " An attitude of the body in harmony with the 
feeling intensifies and helps true expression. 



LYRIC 265 

In this step, even as in Forming Pictures, find the 
unity which will be one central feeling, often intense : 
aim to bring out this one feeling running throughout. 
For example : the twenty-third Psalm is a song of trust ; 
the eighth Psalm is a profound study and contemplation 
of nature compared with man, adoring wonder ; " Night- 
fall " has for its center the " memory of other days. 

Ones personality and the fervor of feeling manifested 
in rendering the Lyric Style is of far greater impor- 
tance than the incidents mentioned in the poems. Sonnets 
are also personal and are rendered as directed for Lyrics. 

Many of our Hymns and Sacred Songs are Lyrics and 
should be so rendered as to bring out the feeling under 
the lines. As a rule hymns are rendered thoughtlessly, 
in a monotonous " ministerial tone, " thus marring and 
ruining the beauty of the sweetest and most personal of 
all the songs of our language. 

In rendering the following subjective studies, while the 
action is concentric and somewhat stilled, aim not to have it 
the stillness of death but the stillness of life, intensity. 
This stillness of life may be likened to a buzz saw in such 
rapid motion that it seems positive repose ; or to a spirited 
horse held in check ; or to a deep stream flowing silently. 
The shallow stream broken up into ripples makes noise. 

To render the profound, sacred, personal feelings of the 
Lyric in a noisy declamatory style is closely akin to pro- 
fanity. Here, as in no other style, there should be appreci- 
ation and intensity for it is " from an abundance of life 
comes sweetness. " 



266 THE ART OF RENDERING 

NIGHTFALL. 

Alone I stand, 

On either hand 
In gathering gloom stretch sea and land ; 

Beneath my feet, 

With ceaseless beat, 
The waters murmur low and sweet. 

Slow falls the night: 

The tender light 
Of stars grows brighter and more bright, 

The lingering ray 

Of dying day 
Sinks deeper down and fades away. 

Now fast, now slow, 
The south winds blow, 

And softly whisper, breathing low ; 
With gentle grace 
They kiss my face, 

Or fold me in their cool embrace. 

Where one pale stai, 

O'er waters far, 
Droops down to touch the harbor bar, 

A faint light gleams, 

A light that seems 
To grow and grow till nature teems 

With mellow haze ; 

And to my gaze 
Comes proudly rising, with its rays 

No longer dim, 

The moon ; its rim 
In splendor gilds the billowy brim. 



LYRIC 267 

I watch it gain 

The heavenly plain ; 
Behind it trails a starry train — 

While low and sweet 

The wavelets beat 
Their murmuring music at my feet. 

Fair night of June ! 

Yon silver moon 
Gleams pale and still. The tender tune, 

Faint-floating, plays, 

In moonlit lays, 
A melody of other days. 

'Tis sacred ground ; 

A peace profound 
Comes o'er my soul. I hear no sound, 

Save at my feet 

The ceaseless beat 
Of waters murmuring low and sweet. 

W. W. Ellsworth. 



LONGING FOR HOME. 

A song of a boat : — 
There was once a boat on a billow : 
Lightly she rocked to her port remote, 
And the foam was white in her wake like snow, 
And her frail mast bowed when the breeze would blow, 
And bent like a wand of willow. 

I shaded my eyes one day when a boat 

Went curtseying over the billow, 
I marked her course till a dancing mote 



268 THE ART OF RENDERING 

She faded out on the moonlit foam, 
And I stayed behind in the dear loved home ; 
And my thoughts all day were about the boat 
And my dreams upon the pillow. 

I pray you hear my song of a boat, 

For it is but short : — 
My boat, you shall find none fairer afloat, 

In river or port. 
Long I looked out for the lad she bore, 

On the open desolate sea, 
And I think he sailed to the heavenly shore, 

For he came not back to me — 

Ah me! 

A song of a nest : — 
There was once a nest in a hollow : 
Down in the mosses and knot-grass pressed. 
Soft and warm, and full to the brim — 
Vetches leaned over it purple and dim. 
With buttercup buds to follow. 

I pray you hear my song of a nest, 

For it is not long : — 
You shall never light, in a summer quest 

The bushes among — 
Shall never light on a prouder sitter, 

A fairer nestful, nor ever know 
A softer sound than their tender twitter, 

That wind-like did come and go. 

I had a nestful once of my own, 
Ah happy, happy 1 ! 
Right dearly I loved them : but when they were grown 
They spread out their wings to fly — 



LYRIC ■ 269 

O, one after one they flew away 

Far up to the heavenly blue, 

To the better country, the upper day, 
And — I wish I was going too. 

I pray you, what is the nest to me, 

My empty nest ? 
And what is the shore where I stood to see 

My boat sail down to the west ? 
Can I call that home where I anchor yet, 

Though my good man has sailed ? 
Can I call that home where my nest was set, 

Now all its hope hath failed ? 
Nay, but the port where my sailor went, 

And the land where my nestlings be : 
There is the home where my thoughts are sent, 

The only home for me — 

Ah me! 
u Songs of Seven. " Jean Ingelow. 



SONG OF THE MYSTIC. 

I walk down the Valley of Silence — 
Down the dim, voiceless valley — alone ! 

And I hear not the fall of a footstep 
Around me, save God's and my own ; 

And the hush of my heart is as holy 
As hovers where angels have flown ! 

Long ago was I weary of voices 

Whose music my heait could not win ; 

Long ago was I weary of noises 

That fretted my soul with their din ; 



270 THE ART OF RENDERING 

Long ago was I weary of places 

Where I met but the human — and sin. 

I walked in the world with the worldly ; 

I craved what the world never gave ; 
And I said : " In the world each Ideal, 

That shines like a star on life's wave, 
Is wrecked on the shores of the Real, 

And sleeps like a dream in a grave. " 

And still did I pine for the Perfect, 

And still found the False with the True; 

I sought 'mid the Human for Heaven, 
But caught a mere glimpse of its Blue ; 

And I wept when the clouds of the Mortal 
Veiled even that glimpse from my view. 

And I toiled on, heart- tired of the Human ; 

And I moaned 'mid the mazes of men ; 
Till 1 knelt, long ago, at an altar 

And I heard a voice call me — since then 
I walk down the Valley of Silence 

That lies far beyond mortal ken. 

T)o you ask what T found in the Valley ? 

'Tis my Trysting Place with the Divine 
And Lfell at the feet of the Holy, 

And above me a voice said : " Be mine. " 
And there arose from the depths of my spirit 

An echo — " My heart shall be thine. " 

Do you ask how I live in the Valley ? 

I weep — and I dream — and I pray. 
But my tears are as sweet as the dewdrops 

That fall on the roses in May ; 
And my prayer like a perfume from Censers, 

Ascendeth to God night and day. 



LYRIC 271 

In the hush of the Valley of Silence 

I dream all the songs that I sing ; 
And the music floats down the dim Valley, 

Till each finds a word for a wing. 
That to hearts, like the Dove of the Deluge, 

A message of Peace they may bring. 

But far on the deep there are billows 
That never shall break on the beach ; 

And I have heard songs in the Silence, 
That never shall float into speech ; 

And I have had dreams in the Valley, 
Too lofty for language to reach. 

And I have seen thoughts in the Valley — 
Ah ! me, how my spirit was stirred ! 

And they wear holy veils on their faces, 
Their footsteps can scarcely be heard , 

They pass through the Valley like Virgins, 
Too pure for the touch of a word ! 

Do you ask me the place of the Valley, 
Ye hearts that are harrowed by Care ? 

It lieth afar between mountains, 

And God and His angels are there ; 

And one is the dark mount of Sorrow, 
And one the bright mouutain of Prayer ! 

Father Ryan. 



O may I join the Choir Invisible 

Of those immortal dead who live again 

In minds made better by their presence. . . . 

Feed pure love, beget the smiles that have no cruelty, 

Be the sweet presence of a good diffused. . . . 

So shall I join the Choir Invisible 

Whose music is the gladness of the world. — Eliot. 



272 THE ART OF RENDERING 

THE CHAMBERED NAUTILUS. 

This is the ship of pearl, which, poets feign, 

Sails the unshadowed main, — 

The venturous bark that flings 
On the sweet summer wind its purpled wings 
In galfs enchanted, where the siren sings, 

And coral reefs lie bare, 
Where the cold sea-maids rise to sun their streaming 
hair. 

Tts web of living gauze no more unfurl : 

Wrecked is the ship of pearl ! 

And every chambered cell, 
Where its dim dreaming life was wont to dwell, 
As the frail tenant shaped his growing shell, 

Before thee lies revealed — 
Its irised ceiling rent, its sunless crypt unsealed ! 

Year after year beheld the silent toil 

That spread his lustrous coil ; 

Still, as the spiral grew, 
He left the past year's dwelling for the new, 
Stole with soft step its shining archway through, 

Built up its idle door, 
Stretched in his last-found home, and knew the old 
no more. 

Thanks for the heavenly message brought by thee, 

Child of the wandering sea, 

Cast from her lap, forlorn ! 
From thy dead lips a clearer note is born 
Than ever Triton blew from wreathed horn ! 

While on mine ear it rings, 
Through the deep caves of thought I hear a voice 
that sings : 



LYRIC 273 

Build thee more stately mansions, my soul, 
As the swift seasons roll / 
Leave thy low-vaulted past ! 
Let each new temple, nobler than the last, 
Shut thee from heaven, with a dome more vast, 

Till thou at length art free, 
Leaving thine outgrown shell by life's unresting 
sea! " 

O. W. Holmes. 



A CRY FROM THE WILDERNESS. 

O God, thou art my God ; early will I seek thee : my 
soul thirsteth for thee, my flesh longeth for thee in a dry 
and thirsty land, where no water is; to see thy power and 
thy glory, so as I have seen thee in the sanctuary. Because 
thy lovingkindness is better than life, my lips shall praise 
thee. Thus will I bless thee while I live : 1 will lift up my 
hands in thy name. My soul shall be satisfied as with 
marrow and fatness ; and my mouth shall praise thee with 
joyful lips : when I remember thee upon my bed, and med- 
itate on thee in the night watches. Because thou hast been 
my help, therefore in the shadow of thy wings will I 
rejoice. My soul followeth hard after thee: thy right 
hand upholdeJi me. But those that seek my soul, to de- 
stroy it, shall go into the lower parts of the earth. They 
shall fall by the sword : they shall be a portion for foxes. 
But the king shall rejoice in God ; every one that sweareth 
by him shall giory : but the mouth of them that speak lies 
shall be stopped. 

Psalms lxiii. 



274 THE ART OF RENDERING 

THE LOST CHORD. 

Seated one day at the organ, 

I was weary and ill at ease, 
And my fingers wandered idly 

Over the noisy keys. 

I know not what I was playing, 
Or what I was dreaming then ; 

But, I struck one chord of music, 
Like the sound of a great Amen. 

It flooded the crimson twilight, 

Like the close of an Angel 's Psalm, 

And it lay on my fevered spirit 
With a touch of infinite calm. 

It quieted pain and sorrow, 

Like love overcoming strife ; 
It seemed the harmonious echo 

From our discordant life. 

It linked all perplexed meanings 

Into one of perfect peace, 
And trembled away into silence 

As though it were loath to cease. 

I have sought, but I seek it vainly 

That one lost chord divine 
That came from the soul of the organ 

And entered into mine. 

It may be that Death's bright angel 
Will speak in that chord again : 

It maybe that only in Heaven 
I shall hear that grand Amen. 

Adelaide A. Procter. 



LYRIC 275 

And slowly answered Arthur fro m the barge: 
" The old order changeth, yielding place to new, 
And God fulfils himself in many ways, 
Lest one good custom should corrupt the world. 
Comfort thyself : what comfort is in me ? 
1 have lived my life, and that which I have done 
May He within himself make pure ! but thou, 
If thou shouldst never see my face again, 
Pray for my soul. More things are wrought by prayer 
Than this world dreams of. Wherefore, let thy voice 
Rise like a fountain for me night and day. 
For what are men better than sheep or goats 
That nourish a blind life within the brain. 
If, knowing God, they lift not hands of prayer 
Both for themselves and those who call them friend ? 
For so the whole round earth is every way 
Bound by gold chains about the feet of God. 
But now farewell. I am going a long way 
With these thou seest — if indeed I go — 
( For all my mind is clouded with a doubt ) 
To the island -valley of Avilion ; 
Where falls not hail, or rain, or any snow, 
Nor ever wind blows loudly ; but it lies 
Deep-meadow'd, happy, fair with orchard-lawns 
And bowery hollows crown'd with summer sea, 
Where I will heal me of my grievous wound. " 

So said he, and the barge with oar and sail 
Moved from the brink like some full-breasted swan 
That, fluting a wild carol ere her death, 
Ruffles her pure cold plume, and takes the flood 
With swarthy webs. Long stood Sir Bedivere 
Revolving many memories, till the hull 
Look'd one black dot against the verge of dawn, 
And on the mere the wailing died away. 
" Morte D* Arthur. " Tennyson. 



276 THE ART OF RENDERING 

THE DAY IS DONE. 

The day is done, and the darkness 
Falls from the wings of Night, 

As a feather is wafted downward 
From an eagle in his flight. 

I see the lights of the village 
Gleam through the rain and the mist, 

And a feeling of sadness comes o'er me 
That my soul cannot resist : 

A feeling of sadness and longing, 

That is not akin to pain, 
And resembles sorrow only 
As the mist resembles the rain. 

Come, read to me some poem, 
Some simple and heartfelt lay, 

That shall soothe this restless feeling, 
And banish the thoughts of day. 

Not from the grand old masters, 
Not from the bards sublime, 

Whose distant footsteps echo 
Through the corridors of Time. 

For, like strains of martial music, 
Their mighty thoughts suggest 

Life's endless toil and endeavor ; 
And to-night I long for rest. 

Read from some humbler poet, 

Whose songs gushed from his heart, 

As showers from the clouds of summer, 
Or tears from the eyelids start ; 

Who, through long days of labor, 
And nights devoid of ease, 



LYRIC 277 

Still heard in his soul the music 
Of wonderful melodies. 

Such songs have power to quiet 

The restless pulse of care, 
And come like the benediction 

That follows after prayer. 

Then read from the treasured volume 

The poem of thy choice, 
And lend to the rhyme of the poet 

The beauty of thy voice. 

And the night shall be filled with music 
And the cares, that infest the day, 

Shall fold their tents, like the Arabs, 
And as silently steal away. 

Longfellow. 



ALLAH. 



Allah gives light in darkness, 

Allah gives rest in pain, 
Cheeks that are white with weeping 

Allah paints red again. 

The flowers and the blossoms wither, 

Years vanish with flying fleet ; 
But my heart will live on forever, 

That here in sadness beat. 

Gladly to Allah's dwelling 

Yonder would I take flight ; 
There will the darkness vanish. 

There will my eyes have sight. 

Longfellow. 



278 THE ART OF RENDERING 

SONG OF LOVE AND DEATH. 

Sweet is true love tho* given in vain, in vain ; 
And sweet is death who puts an end to pain : 
I know not which is sweeter, no, not I. 

Love, art thou sweet ? then bitter death must be : 
Love, thou art bitter ; sweet is death to me. 

Love, if death be sweeter, let me die. 

Sweet love, that seems not made to fade away, 
Sweet death, that seems to make us loveless clay, 

1 know not which is sweeter, no, not I. 

I fain would follow love, if that could be ; 
I needs must follow death, who calls for me ; 
Call and I follow, I follow ! let me die. 
" Elaine. " Tennyson, 

CROSSING THE BAR. 

Sunset and evening star 

And one clear call for me ! 
And may there be no moaning of the bar 

When I put out to sea. 

But such a tide as moving seems asleep, 

Too full for sound and foam 
When that which drew from out the boundless deep 

Turns again home. 

Twilight and evening bell 

And after that the dark ; 
And may there be no sadness of farewell 

When 1 embark ; 
For though from out our bourne of time and place 

The flood may bear me far, 
I hope to see my Pilot face to face 

When I have crost the bar. Tennyson. 



LYRIC 279 

ABIDE WITH ME. 

Abide with me ! Fast falls the eventide, 
The darkness deepens — Lord, with me abide 1 
When other helpers fail, and comforts flee, 
Help of the helpless, oh, abide with me ! 

Swift to its close ebbs out life's little day; 
Earth's joys grow dim, its glories pass away ; 
Change and decay in all around I see ; 

Thou, who changest not, abide with me ! 

1 need Thy presence every passing hour, 

What but Thy grace can foil the tempter's power? 
Who, like Thyself, my guide and stay can be ? 
Through cloud and sunshine, oh, abide with me ! 

Not a brief glance I long, a passing word ; 
But as Thou dwell'st with Thy disciples, Lord, 
Familiar, condescending, patient, free, 
Come, not to sojourn, but abide with me ! 

Hold Thou Thy cross before my closing eyes ; 
Shine through the gloom, and point me to the skies ; 
Heaven's morning breaks, and earth's vain shadows 

flee! 
In life, in death, O Lord, abide with me ! 

Lyte. 



LEAD KINDLY LIGHT. 

Lead, kindly light ! amid th' encircling gloom, 

Lead Thou me on ; 
The night is dark, and 1 am far from home, 

Lead Thou me on ; 
Keep Thou my feet ; I do not ask to see 
The distant scene ; one step enough for me. 



280 THE ART OF RENDERING 

I was not ever thus, nor prayed that Thou 

Shouldst lead me on ; 
I loved to choose and see my path ; but now 

Lead Thou me on ; 
I loved the garish day, and spite of fears, 
Pride ruled my will. Remember not past years. 

So long Thy power has blest me, sure it still 

Will lead me on 
O'er moor and fen, o'er crag and torrent till 

The night is gone : 
And with the morn those angel-faces smile 
Which I have loved long since, and lost awhile. 

Cardinal Newman. 



STILL, STILL WITH THEE. 

Still, still with Thee — when purple morning breaketh, 
When the bird waketh, and the shadows flee ; 

Fairer than morning, lovelier than the daylight. 
Dawns the sweet consciousness, I am with Thee ! 

Alone with Thee — amid the mystic shadows, 
The solemn hush of nature newly born ; 

Alone with Thee in breathless adoration 
In the calm dew and freshness of the morn. 

When sinks the soul subdued by toil, to slumber, 
Its closing eye looks up to Thee in prayer ; 

Sweet the repose beneath thy wings o'ershading 
But sweeter still to wake and find Thee there. 

So shall it be at last in that bright morning. 

When the soul waketh, and life's shadows flee, 
Oh, in that hour, fairer than daylight dawning, 

Shall rise the glorious thought — I am with Thee. 

Harriet Beecher Stowe. 



SOLILOQUY 281 

FIFTEENTH STEP IN RENDERING. 
SOLILOQUY. 

Soliloquy comes from " solus " alone, and " loqui" 
to speak. It therefore means ' to speak alone. ' 
Soliloquy is a talking to one's self or with one's self. 
It is a discourse uttered in solitude. 

In this style ', the real innermost self is revealed. 
Here is the greatest freedom possible of mental action 
and expression. The person talks with self as if self 
were another person, asks question and answers them. 
Long pauses are made for deliberation. Freedom of 
movement, — standing, sitting, walking with the hands 
behind the back etc., with unlimited expression of 
whatever fedmg is dominant, is allowed. 



HAMLET'S SOLILOQUY. 

To be, or not to be, — that is the question : — 
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer 
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, 
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles, 
And by opposing end them. — To die; — to sleep; — 
No more; — and, by a sleep, to say we end 
The heart-ache, and the thousand natural shocks 
That flesh is heir to, — 't is a consummation 
Devoutly to be wished. 

To die ; — to sleep ; — 
To sleep ! perchance to dream ; — Ay, there's the rub ; 



282 THE ART OF RENDERING 

For in that sleep of death what dreams may come, 
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil, 
Must give us pause. There's the respect 
That makes calamity of so long life : 
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time, 
The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely, 
The pangs of despised love, the law's delay, 
The insolence of office, and the spurns 
That patient merit of the unworthy takes, 
When he himself might his quietus make 
With a bare bodkin ? 

Who would fardels bear, 
To grunt and sweat under a weary life ; 

But that the dread of something after death, 

The undiscovered country from whose bourn 
No traveler returns, — puzzles the will, 
And makes us rather bear those ills we have, 
Than fly to others that we know not of ? 
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all; 
And thus the native hue of resolution 
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought ; 
And enterprises of great pith and moment, 
With this regard, their currents turn awry, 
And lose the name of action. 
" Hamlet. " Shakespeare. 



KING OF DENMARK. REMORSE. 

O, my offence is rank, it smells to heaven ; 
It hath the primal eldest curse upon ' t, 
A brother's murder. Pray can 1 not, 
Though inclination be as sharp as will : 
My stronger guilt defeats my strong intent ; 
And, like a man to double business bound, 



SOLILOQUY 283 

I stand in pause where I shall first begin, 

And both neglect. What if this cursed hand 

Were thicker than itself with brother's blood, 

Is there not rain enough in the sweet heavens 

To wash it white as snow ? Whereto serves mercy 

But to confront the visage of offence ? 

And what's in prayer but this twofold force, 

To be forestalled ere we come to fall, 

Or pardon'd being down ? Then I'll look up ; 

My fault is past. But, O, what form of prayer 

Can serve my turn ? ' Forgive me my foul murder ? * 

That cannot be ; since I am still possess'd 

Of those effects for which I did the murder, — 

My crown, mine own ambition, and my queen. 

May one be pardon'd and retain the offence ? 

In the corrupted currents of this world 

Offence's gilded hand may shove by justice, 

And oft 'tis seen the wicked prize itself 

Buys out the law : but 'tis not so above ; 

There is no shuffling, there the action lies 

In his true nature ; and we ourselves compell'd, 

Even to the teeth and forehead of our faults, 

To give in evidence. What then ? What rests ? 

Try what repentance can : what can it not ? 

Yet what can it when one cannot repent? 

O wretched state ! O bosom black as death ! 
O limed soul, that, struggling to be free, 
Art more engaged ! Help, angels ! Make assay. 
Bow, stubborn knees; and, heart with strings of 

steel, 
Be soft as sinews of the new-born babe ! 
All may be well. 
Hamlet. " Shakespeare. 



284 THE ART OF RENDERING 

WHAT MY LOVER SAID. 

By the merest chance, in the twilight gloom, 

In the orchard path he met me ; 
In the tall wet grass, with its faint perfume, 
And I tried to pass but he made no room — 

Oh, I tried, but he would not let me. 
So I stood and blushed till the grass grew red, 

With my face bent down above it ; 
While he took my hand as he whispering said — 
How the clover lifted each pink, sweet head 
To listen to all that my lover said ; 

Oh, the clover in bloom — how I love it ! 

In the high wet grass went the path to hide ; 

And the low wet leaves hung over ; 
But I could not pass on either side, 
For I found myself when I vainly tried 

In the arms of my steadfast lover. 
And he held me there and he raised my head, 

While closed the path before me : 
And he looked down into my eyes and said — 
How the leaves bent down from the boughs overhead 
To listen to all that my lover said — 

Oh, the leaves hanging lightly o'er me ! 

Had he moved aside but a little way 

I could surely then have passed him ; 
And he knew I never could wish to stay, 
And would not have heard what he had to say 

Could I only aside have cast him. 
It was almost dark, and the moments sped, 
And the searching night wind found us, 
But he drew me nearer and softly said — 
How the pure sweet wind grew still instead 



SOLILOQUY 285 

To listen to all that my lover said ; 
Oh, the whispering wind around us ! 

I am sure he knew when he held me fast, 

That I must be all unwilling, 
For I tried to go, and I would have passed, 
As the night was come with its dew, at last, 

And the sky with its stars was filling. 
But he clasped me close when 1 would have fled, 

And he made me hear his story, 
And his soul came out from his lips and said— 
How the stars crept out when the white moon led, 
To listen to all that my lover said, 

Oh, the moon and the stars in glory ! 

I know that the grass and the leaves will not tell ; 

And I'm sure that the wind, precious rover, 
Will carry my secret so safely and well 

That no being shall ever discover 
One word of the many that rapidly fell 

From the eager lips of my lover ; 

And the moon and the stars that looked over 
Shall never reveal what a fairy-like spell 
They wove round about us that night in the dell, 

In the path through the dew-laden clover ; 
Nor echo the whispers that made my heart swell, 

As they fell from the lips of my lover. 

Homer Greene. 



ALONE. 



I miss you, my darling, my darling, 
The embers burn low on the hearth ; 

And still is the stir of the household, 
And hushed is the voice of its mirth ; 



286 THE ART OF RENDERING 

The rain plashes fast on the terrace, 
The winds past the lattices moan ; 
The midnight chimes out from the minster, 
And I am alone. 

I want you, my darling, my darling ; 

I am tired with care and with fret ; 
I would nestle in silence beside you, 

And all but your presence forget, 
In the hush of the happiness given, 
To those who through trusting have grown 
To the fullness of love in contentment, 
But I am alone. 

I call you, my darling, my darling ; 

My voice echoes back on my heart ; 
I stretch my arms to you in longing, 

And lo ! they fall empty, apart. 
I whisper the sweet words you taught me, 
The words that we only have known, 
Till the blank of the dumb air is bitter, 
For I am alone. 

I need you, my darling, my darling ; 

With its yearning my very heart aches ; 
The load that divides us weighs harder ; 

I shrink from the jar that it makes. 
Old sorrows rise up to beset me ; 
Old doubts make my spirit their own. 
Oh, come through the darkness and save me, 
For I am alone. 

Robert J. Burdette. 



MONOLOGUE 287 



SIXTEENTH STEP IN RENDERING. 
MONOLOGUE. 

Monologue is a Dramatic composition for a single 
performer, A Monologue is a play where only one 
character appears. The speech and action may imply 
or suggest other actors. 

The speech and action should be governed by the 
principles of Dramatic Art. The Monologue may be 
given with scenery and costume, or without : the speaker 
may suggest both ; he may use descriptive language. 



QUEEN VASHTI'S LAMENT. 

Is this all the love that he bore me, my husband, to publish 
my face 

To the nobles of Media and Persia, whose hearts are be- 
sotted and base ? 

Did he think me a slave, me, Vashti, the Beautiful, me, 
Queen of queens, 

To summon me thus for a show to the midst of his baccha- 
nal scenes ? 

I stand like an image of brass, I, Vashti, in the sight of 

such men ! 
No, sooner, a thousand times sooner, the mouth of the 

lioness' den. 
Did he love me, or is he, too, though the King, but a 

brute like the rest ! 
But ever before, .... toward me he showed honor 

and grace ; 



288 THE ART OF RENDERING 

He was King, I was Queen, and those nobles, he made them 

remember their place, 
But now all is changed ; I am vile, they are honored, they 

push me aside, 
A butt for Memucan and Shethar and Meres, gone mad in 

their pride ! 

Shall I faint, shall 1 pine, shall 1 sicken and die for the loss 

of his love ? 
Not I ; Lam queen of myself, though the stars fall from 

heaven above. 
The stars ! ha ! the torment is there, for my light is put out 

by a star, 
That has dazzled the eyes of the King and his court and 

his captains of war. 

He was lonely, they say, and he looked like a ghost, as he 

sat at his wine, 
On the couch, where, of yore, by his side, his Beautiful 

used to recline ; 
But the King is a slave to his pride; to his oath and the laws 

of the Medes, 
And he cannot call Vashti again, though his poor heart is 

wounded and bleeds. 

So they sought through the land for a wife, while the King 

thought of me all the while 

I can see him, this moment, with eyes that are lost for the 

loss of a smile, 
Gazing dreamily on while each maiden is temptingly 

passed in review, 
While the love in his heart is awake with the thought of a 

face that he knew ! 
Then she came, when his heart was grown weary with loving 

the dream of the past ! 



MONOLOGUE 289 

She is fair — I could curse her for that, if I thought that 
this passion would last ! 

But, e'en if it last, all the love is for me, and, through good 
and through ill, 

The King will remember his Vashti, will think of his Beau- 
tiful still. 

What is it ? Oft as T lie awake and my pillow is wet with 
tears 

There comes — it came to me just now— a flash, then dis- 
appears ; 

A flash of thought that makes this life a re-enaeted scene, 

That makes me dream what was will be, and what is now, 
has been. 

And I, when age on age has rolled, shall sit on the royal 

throne, 
And the King shall love his Vashti, his Beautiful, his own, 
And for the joy of what has been and what again will be, 
I'll try to bear this awful weight of lonely misery ! 
The star ! Queen Esther ! blazing light that burns into my 

soul! 
The star ! the star ! Oh ! flickering light of life beyond 

control ! 
O King ! remember Vashti, thy Beautiful, thy own, 
Who loved thee and will love thee still, when Esther's light 

has flown ! 

John: Reade. 



A TALE. 



What a pretty tale you told me 

Once upon a time — 
Said you found it somewhere ( scold me ! ) 

Was it prose or was it rhyme, 



290 THE ART OF RENDERING 

Greek, or Latin ? Greek, you said, 
While your shoulder propped my head. 

Anyhow there's no forgetting 

This much if no more, 
That a poet ( pray, no petting ! ) 

Yes, a bard, sir, famed of yore, 
Went where such like used to go, 
Singing for a prize, you know. 

Well, he had to sing, nor merely 

Sing but play the lyre ; 
Playing was important clearly 
Quite as singing ; I desire, 
Sir, you keep the fact in mind 
For a purpose that's behind. 

There stood he, while deep attention 

Held the judges round, 
— Judges able, I should mention, 

To detect the slightest sound 
Sung or played amiss : such ears 
Had old judges, it appears ! 

None the less he sang out boldly, 

Played in time and tune, 
Till the judges, weighing coldly 

Each note's worth, seemed, late or soon, 
Sure to smile " In vain one tries 
Picking faults out : take the prize " 

When, a mischief ! Were they seven 

Strings the lyre possessed ? 
Oh ; and afterwards eleven , 

Thank you ! Well, sir,— who had guessed 
Such ill luck in store ? — it happed 
One of those same seven strings snapped. 



MONOLOGUE 291 

All was lost, then ! No ! a cricket 

( What "cicada?" Pooh!) 
— Some mad thing that left its thicket 

For mere love of music — new 
"With its little heart on fire, 
Lighted on the crippled lyre. 

So that when ( Ah joy ! ) our singer 

For his truant string 
Feels with disconcerted finger, 

What does cricket else but fling 
Fiery heart forth, sound the note 
Wanted by the throbbing throat? 

Ay, and ever to the ending, 

Cricket chirps at need, 
Executes the hand's intending, 

Promptly, perfectly, — indeed 
Saves the singer from defeat 
With her chirrup low and sweet. 

Till, at ending, all the judges 

Cry with one assent 
" Take the prize — a prize who grudges 

Such a voice and instrument ? 
Why, we took your lyre for harp, 
So it shrilled us forth F sharp ! n 

Did the conquerer spurn the creature, 

Once its service done ? 
That's no such uncommon feature 

In the case when Music's son 
Finds his Lotte's power too spent 
For aiding soul-development 

No ! This other, on returning 
Homeward, prize in hand, 



292 THE ART OF RENDERING 

Satisfied his bosom's yearning ; 

( Sir, I hope you understand ! ) 
— Said " Some record there must be 
Of this cricket's help to me ! " 

So, he made himself a statue : 

Marble stood, life-size ; 
On the lyre, he pointed at you, 

Perched his partner in the prize ; 
Never more apart you found 
Her, he throned, from him, she crowned. 

That's the tale : its application ? 

Somebody I know 
Hopes one day for reputation 

Through his poetry that's — Oh, 
All so learned and so wise, 
And deserving of a prize ! 

If he gains one, will some ticket, 

When his statue's built, 
Tell the gazer " Twas a cricket 

Helped my crippled lyre, whose lilt 
Sweet and low, when strength usurped 
Softness' place i' the scale, she chirped? 

For as victory was nighest, 
While I sang and played, — 

With my lyre at lowest, highest, 
Right alike, — one string that made 

' Love ' sound soft was snapt in twain, 

Never to be heard again, — 

Had not a kind cricket fluttered, 

Perched upon the place 
Vacant left, and duly uttered 

' Love, Love, Love, ' whene'er the bass 



MONOLOGUE 293 

Asked the treble to atone 

For its somewhat sombre drone. " 

But you don't know music ! Wherefore 
Keep on casting pearls 

To a— poet ? All I care for 
Is — to tell him that a girl's 
Love " comes aptly in when gruff 

Grows his singing. There, enough ! 

Robert Browning. 



THE WAGES OF SIN. 

Say, old pard, you see that dwellm' in that yonder clump 

of trees 
Turnblin' down and lookin' awkward like a sinner on his 

knees? 
See them vines a hangin' faithful to the house and cistern 

shed 
Like the soul that keeps a clingin' to the hopes it knows is 

dead? 
Well, I'm not a cryin* baby, whinin' round and sheddin* 

tears, 
For I've lived on disappointment now for more than thirty 

years. 
I have lived a life as wicked as the devil's oldest son, 
And I've spent no time repentin' for the deviltry I've done. 
And I'm known in all these diggins as the toughest of the 

crew, 
And I don't talk tender hearted to a livin' soul but you. 
Them that's never felt a wound, pard, is the ones that laughs 

at scars, 
And the man that's got his freedom sneers at them behind 

the bars. 



294 THE ART OF RENDERING 

Oh, it sets my heart a throbbin' when I look on that old 

place, 
Where my hopes was crushed and trampled by a devil! 

See that face ! 
See him, pard ! He's in the doorway ! See that mad glare 

in his eye \ 
See him scowl and stare around him ! Hear him swear that 

she shall die ! 
See, he's got a bloody dagger! — He has killed her! — 

She is dead ! 
O, my God, may heaven's curses rain upon his murderous 

head! 
Pard, don't catch an' hold me that way — I'm not mad ! 

He's often there 
In that dark deserted doorway scowlin' on me with a stare 
That would drive me mad forever, if I didn't chance to 

know 
That the devil got his spirit more than thirty years ago. 

Yes, I'm all right now The story ?— Certainly. Its 

thirty years 
Since I looked on that old dwellin' without fightin' back 

my tears. 
If an angel ventured from the pearly gates above 
An' deluged an earthly household with a flood of light and 

love 
That's the house that entertained her ; that's the home her 

presence blessed. 
And ( for I was pure and young then ) I was her most 

welcome guest. 
Love her? Pard, a mortal bosom never harbored love like 

mine 
For a mortal— she was mortal— but to me she was divine. 
All my thoughts an' all my bein', all my hopes to her was 

wed — 



MONOLOGUE 295 

But I changed from man to devil when I found my hopes 

was dead. 
It was this way, pard, she loved me as I loved her an* 

in me 
Hoped to find a soul-companion for all time that was to be. 

You have read of man's creation — of the garden full of 

flowers — 
How he lived in such contentment there among its walks 

and bowers ; 
But the sweetest flowers were withered, crushed and blighted, 

one and all 
When the poison of the serpent left his trail upon them all. 
She an* I was in our Eden all alone, when there arose 
One whose heart and mind was fashioned somethin' like 

mine, I suppose, 
For he loved her, pard, and wooed her with an eloquence 

and skill 
That if she had been more fickle, might have changed her 

girlish will, 
But she flew to me for refuge and declined to hear him 

more, 
Though he offered her position, jewels, wealth and gold 

galore. 

Pard, I've noticed love ain't always hangin' round where 

diamonds shine, 
Love dont always look for jewels — Love ain't mortal — 

it's divine. 
Oh, he loved her with a madness worthy of a better man, 
And he wooed her with a fervor that to desperation ran. 
Pard, the blackest, maddest monster that the bounds of hell 

has crossed, 
Is a proud and jealous lover, when he finds his suit is lost. 



296 THE ART OF RENDERING 

Yes, 'twas in that very doorway one still evenin' when the 
moon 

Just had kissed the bright horizon — " Good bye, I will be 
back sood. M 

And its first bright rays was fallin' on her fairy form and 
face, 

And my sweetheart stood there splendid in her ever match- 
less grace, 

When he fondly looked upon her, caught her lily hand and 
said ; 

" Kate, if that man ever claims you, it will be when you 
are dead ! " 

Then she raised her raven lashes just in time to see him 
start 

Brandishin' a gleamin' dagger — and he stabbed her to 
the heart ! 

Stabbed my darlin' ! Yes, he stabbed her ! Stabbed her 
with his wicked blade, 

And her heart blood leaped and sputtered through the cru- 
el wound he made. 

Pard, they say some imperfection in our guidin' star of 
Fate, 

While it fetches what we long for, often brings it up too 
late; 

But for me I'm always waitin' — surely that was never said 

For a man who waits forever on a hope he knows is dead. 



When I saw 'em lay my darlin' in the cold and clammy 

ground 
I knew my heart was buried underneath that cruel mound ; 
I was wild with grief and anger and I kneeled above her 

breast, 

And I gave eternal freedom to the devil 1 possessed 

Swore by all the holy augels by her spirit and her God, 



MONOLOGUE 297 

That the devil who had killed her should not live upon the 

sod 
Of the earth that now possessed her, and that I would never 

rest 
Till this hand that 1 had pledged her, sunk a dagger in his 

breast ! 
Pard, J killed him! This same dagger cut him and his 

soul apart ! 
Seven times this keen blade quivered joyously in his false 

heart! 
Oh, Ldanced in wildest triumph as he writhed upon the 

ground 
And his hateful blood came pourm' from each madly gapin' 

wound ! 
There I left him, cold and lifeless with his eyes and mouth 

aghast 
And I knowed he had his wages for his services at last ! 
He was dead, I know he was, pard, for I saw him stiff and 

cold, 
And I know that he was gathered safe into the devil's fold. 
But somehow, his corpse or spirit, something like he was 

in life 
Seems to go wherever I go, brandishin' that bloody knife ! 
And I guess he'll pay me up, pard, when at last I'm gath- 
ered in, 
For the Book says Death's the wages that the devil pays 

for sin. 

Booth Lowrey. 



298 THE ART OF RENDERING 

SUBJECTIVE POEMS. 



IT IS NOT TOO LATE 



And is it too late ? 
No, for time is a fiction and limits no fate. 
Thought alone is eternal. Time thralls it in vain 
For the thought that springs upward and yearns to re- 
gain 
The pure source of spirit, there is no too late, 

Owen Meredith, 

The day will come when the faithful hand 

Shall grasp its reward long sought ; 
The day will come when the heart's demand 

In some way shall be wrought. 
The day will come when the soul that yearns 

And throbs with a sad unrest 
Shall find release and shall rest in peace — 

The guest of a tranquil breast. 

The day will come when the cheerless ray 

That pales at the careworn heart 
Shall shine forth bright as the glad noonday 

And darkness and clouds depart. 
The day will come when the soul that waits 

And braves as the seasons roll 
Shall bask in the sunshine pure and sweet 

Of its heaven appointed goal. 

Oh, the days are dark when the soul is sad 

The flowers bloom and fade 
The sickening rays of the sun seem chill 

As a damp and darkening shade. 



SUBJECTIVE POEMS 299 

But I hear a voice on the evening breeze 

That comes from the far-off home. 
And bids me wait for the hand of fate 

And whispers, " The day will come, " 

Booth Lowrey. 



YOU CAME. 



The days went by with monotonous tread, 
Each like the day that was spent and dead ; 
And my heart beat on to a dull sad rhyme, 
Like muffled bells that had lost their chime. 

Until one day, like a sunbeam bright, 
You came, and chased away my night : 
And I forgot that life was sad 
And all the world grew young and glad. 

A laugh came rippling down the years ; 
A rainbow gleamed through all my tears ; 
And the notes of a sweet and tender strain 
Were borne to me on the wings of Pain. 

The truth you brought, I needed so : 
The heart's choice flowers from sorrows grow. 
May you be blessed through life, the same 
As you blessed my life, the day you came. 

Elizabeth Purser. 



SOUL SYMPATHY. 

In my waking, in my sleeping 
Shadows come upon me creeping 

Till these eyes grow dim with weeping, 
See the light of life no more. 



300 THE ART OF RENDERING 

For my spirit's mute appealing 
There's a calmness o'er me stealing, 

And a light from Heaven revealing 
Truths that I have known before. 

Am I waking ? Am I dreaming ? 

Is it real ? Is it seeming ? 
Heaven's light upon me streaming, 

Still the shadows round me roll ! 
Then 'tis true that I must borrow 

Some dear fellow-mortal's sorrow 
Thro' the night, but soon the morrow 

Will awake that other soul. 

Will awake her to new beauty, 

Will arouse her to her duty 
And bestow on her the booty 

Of the conquerer, — by and by. 
Then this soul in rapture singing, 

Will awake glad echoes ringing 
In mine, while we soar on clinging 

To a hope that cannot die. 

Harriet Mabry. 



SUNLIGHT AND SHADOW. 

The hardest thing you had to do 
Thro' all these passing years, 
And yet the noblest thing you did 
Was to smile thro' all your tears. 

Tho* darkest night-clouds 'round you hung, 
Your soul was rack'd by fears, 
By far the bravest thing you did 
Was to smile through all your tears. 



SUBJECTIVE POEMS 301 

Thro* deepest grief alone you went, 
The world had clos'd its ears, 
God knows the grandest thing you did, 
Was to smile thro' all your tears. 

Bertrand E. Kiggs. 



YOUTH MEMORIES. 

I remember oft and sadly, 

The days of my young years, 
When in my wild and roving thoughts 

I knew no earthly fears ; 
When blithely gay I ran to meet 

Each face I could then see ; 
And loving, trusting, to each one, 

So thought each one to me. 

I remember, oh, how often, 

The scenes of my merry home, 
When but a little laughing lad, 

In all my boyish bloom, 
When I with brother, sister, both 

So joyous passed the day, 
And scarce a thought of trouble came, 

But all was blithe and gay. 

I remember sister's kindness, 

Sister Emma's loving smile, 
As in our little mischief sports 

We laughed away the while. 
Her ringing laugh, her sparkling eye, 

Her sisterly embrace, 
These from my fitful memory 

No cares can e'er efface. 



302 THE ART OF RENDERING 

I remember, but too sadly, 

At last when I was grown, 
And out upon the wide, wide world 

I wandered forth alone ; 
I saw the tear steal from her eye, 

With grief her bosom swell, 
The trembling hand she gave to me, 

The kiss, the last farewell. 

Time has placed us far apart, 

And many scenes have passed. 
But oft I think of sister's kiss, 

The gentlest and the last. 
That dearest sister, ever kind, 

I nevermore may see ; 
Yet in my dreamy fitful thoughts 

She ever smiles on me. 

And now amid my worldly cares, 

I fondly think of home, 
Content and innocent as I lived there, 

And ne'er had thought to roam. 
'Tis true, the time once haply was 

When all was love and Heaven, 
I'd fellowshipped no wilful wrong, 

To nought of sin was given. 

But now I'm older, and perhaps 

Wiser, yet wisely wild. 
But still I'm farther off from Heaven, 

Than when I was a child. 
Then I ne'er saw my destiny, 

In the flood light of our age, 
By the vigils of my past life, 

Writ out on Nature's page. 



SUBJECTIVE POEMS 303 

Older, wiser, though am I, 

More learned in deeds of wrong, 
I often long for ignorance 

The same I had when young. 
Youth learned through age is wisest far 

Of all the worldly wise. 
But age yet leaves its leprous mark, 

Youth's innocence defies. 

Heaven, I trust, will bear me up 

Through all my wayward ways 
For sake of hopes I entertain 

Of youth in coming days, 
As slowly now I plod along. 

The past lights up my way, 
The present bids me early grasp 

The future better day. 

Alba Honywell. 



Me wherever my life is lived. O to be self-balanced 
for contingencies ! 

O to confront night, storms, hunger, ridicule, ac cidents, 
rebuffs, as the trees and animals do ! 

O the orator's joys ! To inflate the chest — to roll the thun- 
der of the voice out from the ribs and throat. To make the 
people rage, weep, hate, desire, with yourself. To lead 
America — to quell America with a great tongue. 

O the joy of a manly selfhood ! To walk with erect carri- 
age, a step springy and elastic ! To look with calm gaze or 
with flashing eye ! To speak with a full and sonorous voice 
out of a broad chest ! To confront with your personality all 
the other personalities of the earth ! O to have my life 
henceforth my poem of joys ! Walt Whitman. 



304 THE ART OF RENDERING 

ADDITIONAL STUDIES IN RENDERING. 

ANIMATION. 

The Chariot Race. Wallace. Fenno' s Favorites, No. 6. 
Darius Green and His Flyiug Machine. /. T. Trowbridge, 
A Song of Victory. Exodus XV. 

Doom of Claudius and Cynthia. Thompson. Fav. No. 1. 
Mary's Night Ride. George W. Cable. Fav. No. 7. 

CONVERSATIONAL. 

Mrs. Caudle. Douglas Jerrold. 

The Land of Shiniug Gold. George R. Simms. Fav. No. 7. 

The Kingdom of Heaven. Matthew XIII. 

Aunty DolefuPs Visit. M. K. Dallas. Fenno's Elocution. 

Laughing in Meeting. H. B. Stowe. Fenno's Elocution. 

NARRATIVE STYLE. 

The Tea-Kettle and the Cricket. Dickens. Fav. No. 9. 
The Fiddling Parson. Davy Crocket. Fav. No. 10. 
Battle of Quebec. Bancroft. 
A Day at Niagara. Mark Twain. Fenno's Elocution. 

DESCRIPTIVE STYLE. 

Storming the Ice Palace. W. H. H. Murray. Fav. No. 2. 
Sunrise on the Mississippi. Mark Twain. Fav. No. 1. 
Winter in Louisville. Frank H. Fenno. Fav. No. 2. 
The Garden. Pope. 
11 Peace, Be Still. '* Fav. No. 2, 

FORMING PICTURES. 

One Niche the Highest. Elihu Burrett. Fav. No. 7. 
Elsie's Child. Julia C. Dorr. Fav. No. 1. 
Shamus O'Brien. Samuel Lover. Fenno's Elocution. 
" God Knows. " Benjamin F. Taylor. Fav. No 5. 



ADDITIONAL STUDIES IN RENDERING 305 

VITAL, ANIMATED PICTURES. 

Burning of Chicago. Carleton. Fenno's Elocution. 
Pharaoh's Army Crossing the Red Sea. Exodus XIV, 
Sennacherib's Army. Lord Byron. 
An Arctic Aurora. Fa v. No. 2. 

IDEAL PICTURES. 

The Culprit Fay. /. Rodman Drake. Fav. No. 2. 
Ballad of Babie Bell. Thomas Bailey Aldrich. 
The Rainbow. Fenno's Elocution. 
Robert of Lincoln. William Cullen Bryant. 

SLIDES OF THE VOICE. 

The Pen and the Tongue. H. W. Beecher. Fav. No. 9. 
Benefits of Wisdom. Proverbs IV. 
The Hour of Prayer. Victor Hugo. 
Shylock to Antonio. Shakespeare. 

VITAL SLIDE. 

The Great Bell Roland. Tilton. Fenno's Elocution. 

The Fate of Virginia. Macaulay. 

Forging the Anchor. Samuel Ferguson. Fav. No. 10. 

SLIDE IN VOLUME. 

The Bells. Edgar Allan Poe. Fenno's Elocution. 
The Vineyard of the Lord. Isaiah V f IX, X : 4. 
The Happy Warrior. Wordsworth. 
O Captain ! My Captain. Walt Whitman. 

PAUSE. 

All in Each. Ralph Waldo Emerson. Fav. No. 9. 
The Hymn on the Nativity. Milton. 
Auxltaliens. Owen Meredith. Fav. No. 10. 



306 THE ART OF RENDERING 

RELATION OF VALUES. 

Virtues vs. Vices. Proverbs. 

Whiskey — its Poetry and Prose. Fav No. 5. 

The Character of Charles I. Macaulay. 

VOLUME OF VOICE 

Paul Before Agrippa. Acts XXVI. 

The Black Horse and His Rider. Sheppard. Fav. No. 3. 

Heroes of the Land of Penn. George Lippard. Fav. No. 2. 

The Unknown Speaker. Fav. No. 5. 

A Camp Meeting in Texas. John B. Gough. Fav. No. 9. 

God's First Temples. William Cullen Bryant. Fav. No. 5. 

LYRIC. 

Sunrise. Sidney Lanier. 

Gradatim. /. G. Holland. 

Love Song and Reply. Prometheus Unbound. Shelley. 

Lamentation. Jean Ingelow. 

Regret. Jean Ingelow. 

The Tides. Longfellow. 

Tis the Last Rose of Summer. Moore. 

SOLILOQUY. 

Anthony over the Body of Caesar. Shakespeare. 

A Dagger of the Mind. Macbeth. Shakespeare. P. 233. 

The Cardinal's Soliloquy. E. Bulwer Lytton. 

Job Curses the Day of his Birth. Job. Ill, 

MONOLOGUE. 

A Man After Her Own Heart. Edwin Drew, Fav. No. 5. 
The Hat. Coquehn. Fav. No. 6. 
My Last Duchess. Robert Browning. 
A Forgiveness. Robert Browning. 



FENNO'S 
SCIENCE OF SPEECH 



A Condensed and comprehensive treatise on the culture of Body, 

Mind and Voice, to be used in connection 

with 

THE ART OF RENDERING 

Comprising 

Chart of Elocution, Laws of Voice and Action, Articulation, Charts 

and Illustrations. Designed to be used as a text-book 

in the class-room, and for private study as well as 

by readers and speakers generally 

By FRANK H. FENNO, AM., F.S.Sc. 

Teacher, Lecturer, and Author of "Fenno's Elocution," "Lectures 
on Elocution," etc. # Compiler of "Fenno's Favorites" 

Revised and Enlarged by 
MRS. FRANK H. FENNO, B. 0. 

THE MENTAL METHOD. 
I. Theory. III. Scientific. 

II. Practice. IV. Artistic. 



In The Science of Speech, the result of the author's careful in- 
vestigations during many years, the unchangeable Laws of Voice 
and Action are developed step by step, formulated and taught. In 
this Natural Scientific Method of Voice Culture, Gesture, Enunciation, 
and Modulation, the principle is, "Not imitation, but strict con- 
formity to the Laws of Speech, and these laws the only basis of 
criticism." 



Twelvemo, Cloth, 167 pages; Price, $1.25. 



FENNO'S ELOCUTION 



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How To Read and Speak 



A COMPREHENSIVE AND SYSTEMATIC SERIES OF EXERCISES 

FOR 

Gesture, Calisthenics, and Cultivation of the 

Voice 

A COLLECTION OF 150 LITERARY GEMS FOR READING AND 

SPEAKING. 

By FRANK H. FENNO, A.M., F.S.Sc. 

IN FOUR PARTS: 

I. Theoretical. III. Helps to Study. 

II. Vocal Culture. IV. Readings and Recitals. 



A WORK thoroughly adapted to the wants Of both the student 
and the amateur reader. It covers every essential point in 
Articulation, Modulation and Gesture. The chapter on "Vocal 
Culture" carefully outlines, with exercises, an important feature 
to proper cultivation and development. "Helps to Study" show 
clearly the importance of care and accuracy, and assure a degree of 
perfection, to all who thoroughly master them, well worth striving 
for. The "Readings and Recitals" have been selected with the great- 
est care, and throughout show the work of an accomplished 
elocutionist. 



i2mo, Cloth, Extra, 414 pages; Price, $1.25. 



FENNO'S FAVORITES 



FOR — 



Reading and Speaking 

— COMPILED BY — 

FRANK H. FENNO, A.M., F.S.Sc. 



TEN NUMBERS NOW READY. 



Nos. i, 2, 3, 5, 6, 7, 9 and io 
Contain ioo Choice Selections for Reading and Speaking. 

Nos. 4 and 8 
Contain 50 Choice Dialogues for Speaking and Acting, WITH DEF- 
INITE PARTICULARS AS TO COSTUMES, SCENES, 
ENTREES, ETC. 

These selections have been edited with much care by Prof. Fenno, 
who is thoroughly acquainted with the various tastes and capacities 
of readers of all ages, and with the field of literature best suited 
to this purpose. The need of variety and general usefulness has 
been kept steadily in view. The pieces are all of a high character. 
A judicious variety of prose and poetry, of humor, pathos and trag- 
edy. Those best adapted for elocutionary purposes have t>een chosen 
in each case. Many pieces are original, and appear for the first 
time in these volumes. 

Each number is prefaced with a practical essay on some branch 
of elocution. The books are uniform in appearance. The type is 
large and clear, the paper good, and the size handy. 

The merit of these books is proven by the favor with which they 
have been received. More than 200,000 copies have already been sold. 



Substantially bound, i2mo, Paper 30 cts. each. 
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FENNO'S FAVORITES 

The Reaper's Dream. 

Our Magna Charta. 

The Ride of Death. 

A Wood Carver's Ro- 
mance. 

William Brown of Oregon. 

Interviewing Mrs. 
Young. 

On the Concord Road. 

The Slave's Dream. 

Jimmy Brown's Steam- 
Chair. 

Unknown. 

Fatherless Joe. 

Scene at Niagara Falls. 

"Don't Feel too Big." 

Columbia Crumb. 

The Leap of Roushan 



NO. 



Greatest Walk on Record. 
Bessie's Christmas 

Dream. 
The World We Live in. 
Our Welcome. 
The Well-Digger. 
The Blind Preacher. 
Larrie O'Dee. 
Found Dead. 
The Jiners. 
The Mount of the Holy 

Cross. 
A Pathetic Old Man. 
The Fireman's Prayer. 
Life. 

Lookout Mountain. 
The Emancipation of 

Man. 
Samson. 

Waste Not, Want Not. 
The Old Sergeant. 



1.— PRINCIPLES OF GESTURE. 
The Engine. 



Wapshot's Woes. 

The Palace o'the King. 

In the Mining Town. 

Yacob Wegenheiseran- 
genf eldts Setting a Hen . 

The Jackdaw of Rheims. 

The Maiden's Prayer. 

Bosbyschell's Confession. 

Erin's Flag. 

Trouble in the Choir. 

Brother Watkins. 

After the Sale. 

Asking the Guv'nor. 

Father Roach. 

Baggage Master Brick's 
Lunch-Can. 

The Lightning-Rod Dis- 
penser. 

An Original Love Story. 

The Doom of Claudius 
and Cynthia. 

Elsie's Child. 

Kentucky Philosophy. 

A Thanksgiving Dinner. 

The Honest Deacon. 

The Two Mills. 

Glad Tidings. 

The Fate of Sergeant 
Thin. 

The Two Ideals. 

Night on Shiloh. 

The German Family on 
the Cars. 

Gilderoy. 

The Child's Dream. 

Mind Shildren. 

Cheerfulness. 

Building the Years. 

Rhymes for House-Clean- 
ing Times. 



Jane Conquest. 

The Lady or the Tiger. 

Love on Skates. 

A Baptist on Presby- 
ter ans. 

God's Beverage. 

Hannah Jane. 

The Palmetto and the 
Pine. 

A Railway Matinee. 

The Law of Death. 

The Easter Altar-Cloth. 

The Ballad of Hiram 
Hover. 

On the Other Train. 

The Old Fair Story. 

The Ship on Fire. 

My Madcap Darling. 

The Tides are Rising. 

The Minstrel's Curse. 

Patient Mercy Jones. 

Sunrise on the Mississippi. 

Try the Fun. 

Searching for the Slain. 

The Briefless Barrister. 

Jet. 

A Negro's Account of the 
Prodigal Son. 

Durandarte and Balerma. 

The Dead Colonel in the 
Blue. 

Paying Toll. 

Annals of the Poor. 

The Photograph Album. 

The Martyrs of Sandomir 

Uncle Mosea and the 
Comet. 

Building and Being. 



FENNO'S FAVORITES, NO. 2. 



The Curriculum of Life. 
A Visit to Jack Frost's 

A Rhyme of the Navy. 

She Wanted to Learn 
Elocution. 

The Destruction of Pom- 
peii. 

Suffering and Hope. 

The Stern Parent. 

A New Declaration. 

The Golden Axe. 

A Boy's Lecture on 
' Knives." 

Stonewall Jackson's 
Death. 

Was it Job that had 
Warts on Him. 

On the Stairway. 

Roland and Diana. 

The Irish Schoolmaster. 

A Picture of the Past. 

Piano-Music. 

Relation of the Mosquito 
to the Human Family. 

"That's but Nat'ral." 

Curfew Bells. 

When the Clock Strikes 
XXI 

The Arctic Martyrs. 

The Lion's Ride. 

Smelling by Telephone. 

The Ten Virgins. 

How Jake Found Him. 

Hiawatha Johnson's 
Wooing. 

How Uncle Henry Dyed 
His Hair. 

Wendell Phillips. 

"The Roil Bengol Tag- 
ger," 

The Pilgrim's Vision. 

A Solemn Warning. 



The Humble 
Girl. 

Our Aln Countrie. 

The Pewee and the Wild 
Rose. 

Mr. Grimshaw's Mistake. 

The Recognition. 

An Arctic Aurora. 

A Welsh Classic. 

Negro Worship in the 
South. 

For a Warning. 

Woman vs. Heroism. 

Willie Wee's Grace. 

Drinking a Tear. 

Fat and Lean. 

Winter in Louisville. 

The Sioux Chief's Daugh- 
ter. 

The Sad-Eyed Stranger. 

How we Tried to Whip 
the Teacher. 

"Peace, be Still!" 

Sunday Fishin'. 

The Damsel of Peru. 

The New Era. 

The Insulted Pig. 

The Great Commander. 

The Circle of Death. 

The After-Dinner Orator. 

The Storming of the Ice- 

P3.1fljCG 

A Ballad' of Capri. 

Cho-che-Bang and Chi- 
chil-Bloo. 

A Musical Contest. 

Fridolin. 

The Story of Don Vejez. 

Bachelor Brown. 

The Christmas Prayer. 

Uncle Skinflint's Christ- 
mas Gift. 



HOW TO IMPERSONATE. 
Servant 



The Culprit Fay. 

Nancy. 

The Story of Ingomar. 

" One of the Little Ones." 

The Old Reading Class. 

Off Barnegat. 

The Going of Arthur. 

The Tapestry Weavers. 

AuntJemima'sCourtship. 

Heroes of the Land of 

Penn. 
Dot Maid Mit Hazel 

Hair. 
An Italian Legend. 
Night Brings out the 

Stars. 
The "Shiner" and the 

Waifs. 
The Bobbin Ran Out. 
The Bugle. 
Entering In. 
Diffidence. 
Brother Gardner on 

Wickedness. 
A Smart Boy. 
Mansie Wanch's First 

and Last Play. 
The Hermit of the Cave. 
The First Sabbath. 
New Year's Chimes. 
Little Elfin's Piea. 
Our Choir. 
A New Year Address. 
The M-Man wich didn't 

drink W-W-W- Water. 
The Baby is Dead. 
The Unfinished Song. 
The Maniac's Love. 
Man, His Proverbial 111- 

Luck and Continual 

Foolishness. 
Bettina Mazzl. 
"Over the Range." 



FENNO'S FAVORITES, NO. 3.— CULTURE 



A Hero of 1780. 

God in the Sunrise. 

Before the Wedding. 

Neddie's Thanksgiving 
Visit. 

Purpose In Life. 

A Little Child. 

The Tender Heart. 

Big Ben Bolton. 

The First Predicted 
Eclipse. 

Sixteen and Sixty. 

The Ballad of Beff ana. 

Clerk Muggins. 

A Life's Hymn. 

In the Catacombs. 

Went Out That Way. 

Come Under My Plaidie. 

The Prettiest Girl. 

A Sly Old Rat. 

Handsome Girl in a 
Crowded Car. 

Death. 

Old Amazin' Grace. 

The Cranes of Ibycus. 

The Pretty Roller Skater. 

Reflections on the 
Needle. 

The Hot Axle. 

The Fountain of Youth. 

Uncle Ned's Defence. 

Arkansas Justice. 

The Way it is Said. 

4 Der Dog und der Lob- 
ster." 

The Black Horse and His 
Rider. 

The Last Hymn. 

Fame. 

Curly-Head. 



The Irish Picket. 

How It Struck Jim. 

Gaffer Gray. 

Ethiopiomania. 

Unto Death. 

An Evening Idyl. 

The Removal. 

Bill Nye's Mine. 

The Seventh Plague of 
Egypt. 

When the Cows Come 
Home. 

Love at the Seaside. 

The Church Spider. 

"Dem Codicils." 

The Ancient Miner's 
Story. 

An Irish School. 

A Fight with the Flood. 

True Courage. 

A Single Hair. 

By the Shore of the River. 

How Kate Shelly Crossed 
the Bridge 

Difficult Love-Making. 

The Alpine Flower. 

Keturah's Christmas. 

Six Times an Orphan. 

Five. 

The Surveyor and the 
School Ma'am. 

Miss M'Lindy's Court- 
ship. 

The Wandering Jew. 

The Valentine. 

A Donation Party. 

The Supper of St. Greg- 
ory. 

Minding the Hens. 

Our Baby. 



OF THE VOICE. 

The School at Talladega. 

The Friars' Christmas. 

The Two Roads. 

The Gladiator. 

Pat and the Frogs. 

What a Woman Can Do. 

The Neglected Pattern. 

Leadville Jim. 

Parson Jinglejaw and the 
Sewing Circle. 

A Tussle with Immi- 
grants. 

An Eastern Story. 

The Goat and the Swing. 

Major Jones's Courtship. 

The Lovers. 

The Mountain Snow- 
Wraith. 

Bossing a Bar'l in April. 

The Golden Gate. 

The Victim. 

What Drove Me into a 
Lunatic Asylum. 

Dave Briggs. 



Sam's Letter. 

George Washington. 

Spectacles. 

The Quarrel. 

The Arithmetic Lesson. 

Brave Alta Wayne. 

The Ship of Faith. 

The Boy and the Frog. 

The Tragedy. 

The First Day. 

The S p I n n i n g-W heel 

Song. 
"Angels Bright an J 

Fair." 



FENNO'S FAVORITES, NO. 5.— READING— READING IN PUBLIC. 



A Drop of Ink. 
The Engineer's Story. 
A Boy Again. 
"Nearer to Thee." 
The Victor of Marengo. 
Since Mickey Got Kilt in 

the War. 
The Dark River. 
The Drummer-Boy of 

Kent. 
Sun Dust. 
A Lesson to Lovers. 
The Joys of Millionaires. 
Elizabeth Zane. 
Blood-Money. 
Her Evidence. 
The Puzzled Priest. 
The Farmer's Club. 
Courageous Johnny. 
"Cut, Cut Pehind." 
The Coliseum. 
The Monk's Magnificat. 
Mullins the Agnostic. 
The Flood and the Ark. 
German Opera. 
Italian Opera. 
The Clown's Romance. 
Death of Garfield. 
The Glacier Bed. 
The Ballad of Cassandra 

Brown. 
I'll be at Home Thanks- 

givin'. 
God's First Temples. 
The Man and the Foxes. 
Pompeii. 
The Spinning-Wheel 

Song. 
The Old Continentals. 
Sufferings of the Pilgrims. 



A Rude Awakening. 

"God Knows." 

Geoffrey and Beatrice. 

Scientific Jones. 

My First Ax. 

A Small Boy's Composi- 
tion on Cats. 

A Ballad of the North. 

"Inasmuch." 

Heard them Counted. 

The Origin of Scandal. 

Mrs. Noodle's Conun- 
drum. 

Looking Out for Number 
One. 

No Kiss. 

Mrs. Piper. 

The Challenge. 

The Veterans. 

The Two Gates. 

The Bell of Zanora. 

A Man After Her Own 
Heart. 

Shadows on the Curtain. 

The Christening. 

I Want! I Wantl 

The Unknown Speaker. 

The Joshua of 1776. 

"I'll Report to God the 
Reason Why." 

Josiah Allen at Saratoga. 

Sunset Prophecy. 

The Deacon's Courtship. 

Whiskey — Its Poetry and 



The Nine Suitors. 
In Answer. 
Penn's Monument. 
The Dutchman and the 
Raven. 



Composition on the Ant- 
Eater. 

Jim's Little Pra'r. 

"Them Flurdy Hens." 

The Loom of Life. 

An Essay on Butter- 
Making. 

An Idyl. 

Miss Witchazel and Mr. 
Thistlepod. 

Michael's Mallet. 

The Man Who Would 
Not Sleep With His 
Brother. 

Ginevra. 

The King and the Child. 

Giving Mrs. Scudder the 
Small-Pox. 

"Yes, I'm Guilty." 

The Elf-Child. 

Sambo's Dilemma. 

The Pilot's Story. 

For the Chief's Daugh- 
ter. 

Burdock's Music Box. 

Rebel, or Loyalist. 

A Little Peach. 

Love Flying in at the 
Window. 

The Whistler. 

A Spool of Thread. 

The Bell of Liberty. 

Because. 

A Culprit. 

Taking an Elevator. 

The Boy's Complaint. 

He Never Told a Lie. 

"Ask Mamma." 

Let Down the Bars. 

The Catholic P^alm 



FENNO'S FAVORITES 

The Hat. 

Miss Splicer Tries the 

Toboggan. 
Billy's Rose. 
David and Goliath. 
My Guest. 

Der Oak und Der Vine. 
The Bride of Reichen- 

stein. 
A Sleigh-Ride. 
The Aesthetic Cat-Tail. 
The Lock of Hair. 
Joe Ford the Fireman. 
The Chariot Race. 
The Tartar who Caught 

a Tartar. 
Tommy's Composition 

on Women. 
Lincoln's Last Dream. 
Rome Wasn't Built in a 

Day. 
Waking the Dead. 
Eve. 

The Evils of War. 
How Cyrus Laid the 

Cable. 

Sir William Napier and 
Little Joan. 

Disadvantages of Moral 
Courage. 

A Church Scene. 

A Permanent Boarder. 

Farmer Jonathan's De- 
cision. 

Tim. 

Dream of Pilate's Wife. 

Aunt Nabby. 

The Drunkard's Dream. 

The Earth. 

The Light on Deadman's 
Bar. 



, NO. 6.— SCHOOLROOM 
WORDS TO TEACHERS 

Pat and the Deacon. 

James A. Garfield. 

A Love Song. 

Some Old Friends. 

The Modern Ravens. 

Why Old Jasper Was Not 
• Sent to the Peniten- 
tiary. 

Kit Carson's Wife. 

The Chimes of Amster- 
dam. 

A Voice from the Poor- 
House. 

Behind Time. 

The Comet. 

Paudeen O 'Raft erty's 
Say- Voyage. 

In School-Days. 

"Please to Say Amen." 

Mark Twain as a Farmer. 

On the Frontier. 

Murder Will Out. 

Darby and Joan. 

The Bible and Liberty. 

The King's Daughters. 

An Inquiring Friend. 

A Christmas Ballad. 

The Cripple Boy's Story. 

The Story of a Stowaway. 

Josiah and the Mermaid. 

The Rum Evil. 

The Freckled Faced Girl. 

Eighteen and Eighty. 

Our Craft is Small. 

An Aesthetic House- 
keeper. 

Hatem Toi. 

MacDonald's Charge at 
Wagram. 

Petit Jean. 

A Rogue. 

The Moneyless Man. 



ELOCUTION— A FEW 

The Bashful Man's Story. 

Has Charity Begun. 

An August Idyl. 

The Round of Life. 

The Doctrine o f Chance. 

Ticket O'Leave. 

Art Matters in Indiana. 

Virginny. 

Harry's Christmas. 

Rome and Carthage. 

A Scene at Jericho. 

Washington. 

Grandpa and Bess. 

Partnership. 

One Glass too Much. 

Burdette in Toledo. 

"Remember the Sabbath 

Day." 
Shacob's Lament. 
In Liquor. 

Jerusalem by Moonlight. 
The Battle Above the 

Clouds. 
The Irishman's Pano- 
rama. 
Review of the Grand 

Army. 
The Worm of the Still. 
How Terry Saved His 

Bacon. 
Caedmon. 
Death-Bed of Benedict 

Arnold. 
The Adventures of Milti- 

ades Peterkin Paul. 
A Tarrytown Romance. 
The Flying Dutchman. 
The Swell. 
Flash — The Fireman's 

Story. 
Fritz and His Betsy Fall 

Out. 



FENNO'S FAVORITES, NO. 7.— THE MISSION OF SPEECH. 



Marcel. 

The Swan Song. 

The Sword of Gram. 

The Cow and the Bishop. 

Indifference. 

The Squire's Bargain. 

The Thanksgiving in Bos- 
ton Harbor. 

As the Pigeon Flies. 

The Minuet. 

Grandma's Angel. 

Tommy Brown. 

The Ladder of St Augus- 
tine. 

The Old Actor's Story. 

The Fading Leaf. 

"Limpy Tim." 

A Sleepy Little School. 

Andre and Hale. 

Echo and the Ferry. 

The Finding of the Cross. 

A Second Trial. 

One Niche the Highest. 

The Good Reciter. 

Baby in Church. 

Aunt Jemina on the 
Woman Question. 

An Incident of the War. 

The Ride of Grand- 
mother Lee. 

"No Saloons Up There." 

The Battle of Bunker 
Hill. 

Proof Positive. 

Ancient and Modern 
Oratory. 

Little Christel. 

The Idiot Lad. 

A Battery in Hot Action. 

One of the Heroes. 



Jimmy Brown's Sister's 
Wedding. 

The Spanish Mother. 

Address to Bartholdi's 
Statue. 

The Scholar in Politics. 

The Lady Judith's Vision. 

The Old Woman's Rail- 
way Signal. 

Count Zinzendorf . 

The Book Agent Beats 
the Bandit. 

In the Signal Box. 

Jean Valjean.the Convict. 

Money Musk. 

The King and the Cottage. 

The Value of Punctuality. 

The Two Villages. 

Mary's Night Ride. 

Perplexity. 

A Yachtman's Speech. 

The Sailing of King Olaf. 

Bill, the Engineer. 

"Kiss Me, Mamma." 

Zarafl. 

The Army of the Potomac. 

A New Year's Deed. 

Cavern Scene from 
"She." 

A Girl Heroine. 

"Wash Dolly up Like 
That." 

What's an Anthem? 

A Born Orator. 

There is No Death. 

The Land of Shining Gold. 

A Tale of Long Ago. 

A Public School Idyl. 

The New South. 

The Tear of Repentance. 



How it Struck Jim. 

Nellie's Victory. 

The Telegram. 

Katrina's Visit to New 
York. 

Mary Garvin. 

Sir Rupert's Wife. 

Lead the Way. 

Something Great. 

Farmer Stebblns at 
Ocean Grove. 

Toussaint L'Overture. 

The Preacher's Vacation. 

We've Always Been Pro- 
vided For. 

Aunt Polly's "George 
Washington." 

Lady Wentworth. 

A Lesson of Thankful- 
ness. 

The McSwats Swear Off. 

The Time to Hate. 

The Substitute. 

A Week of Practice. 

The Flag's Birthday. 

A Russian Courtship. 

La Fayette. 

Garfield's Ride. 

The Two Brothers. 

The Ruling Passion. 

The Drummer Boy Of 
Mission Ridge. 

The Pencil Tree. 

The Fancy- Work Maiden. 

The Lady Rohesia. 

Gettysburg. 

A Boy's Essay on Co- 
lumbus. 

Echo Dell. 



FENNO'S FAVORITES, NO. 9.— A WORD 



With Books. 

Elam Chase's Fiddle. 

Napoleon. 

The Little Western Man. 

He Danced at her 
Wedding. 

The Story of the Cable. 

The White Cross of Savoy . 

The Daffodils. 

Joe Bird, the Impostor. 

When Grandpa was a 
Little Boy. 

The Demon of the Fire. 

A New Year's Address. 

The Prayer-Gage. 

Bach'ler Bill's Thanks- 
givin'. 

The Violin's Voice. 

Alec Yeaton's Son. 

Her Excuse. 

The Policeman's Story. 

Dark-Eyed Mehetabel. 

A Notable Tilt. 

"Let Your Women Keep 
Silence in the 
Churches." 

What She Said and What 
She Did. 

Extract from "Michael 
Strogoff." 

A Dream of the Sea. 

Indirection. 

The Photograph Habit. 

"I wish I was a Grown- 
up." 

ThanksgivuV Pumpkin 
Pies. 

A Child's Power. 

The Sailor Boy's Dream. 

Young America in Pin- 
afore. 

The Transition Woman; 
Or, Sailing by the Stars, 
Not by the Wake. 



A Gettysburg Sketch. 

Classical Music. 

Rivermouth Rocks. 

A Thank- Ye-Ma' am. 

The Cheerful Locksmith. 

Unfinished Music. 

The Bootblack. 

No Room for Mother. 

The Liberty Bell. 

There's a Beautiful Land 
by the Spoiler Untrod. 

Mrs. Blake's Visit to the 
White Mountains. 

In the Autumn Weather. 

Herve Riel. 

Take Your Hands out of 
Your Pockets. 

The Little Martyr of 
Smyrna. 

The Wail of an Anach- 
ronistic Survival. 

Intemperance. 

On the Shores of Tennes- 

The "Gauger and the 
Sibyl. 



Wakin* the Young 'Uns. 
A Woman's Sentiment. 
The Engineer's Last Run. 
The Agnostic by his 

Brother's Bier. 
Selling the Baby. 
Reuben James. 
The Tea-Kettle and the 

Cricket. 
Chimneys. 
When this Old Flag was 

New. 
The Bartholdi Statue. 
Which Side Are You On? 
Mother's Doughnuts. 
Glimpses into Cloudland. 



TO PARENTS. 

The Legend of the Two 
Kings. 

Nott Shott. 

Ali's Punishment. 

Aunt Tabitha. 

The Pen and the Tongue. 

"There will be Briars 
where Berries Grow." 

The Dream of Greatness. 

Old Kitchen Reveries. 

A Laughing Chorus. 

Women — A Girl's Essay. 

Johnny's Pocket. 

They Had no Poet and 
so They Died. 

The Blind See. 

In a Hundred Years. 

A Lesson to Lovers. 

Commerce. 

The Soldier's Reprieve. 

He Could Argyfy. 

The Battle of Naseby. 

Grandma at the Mas- 
querade. 

Destruction of Pompeii. 

Only a Tramp. 

Bill Mason's Bride. 

The Legend of Adlernfel. 

Baby's Autograph. 

The Song of Monterey. 

That Awful Ghost. 

All in Each. 

A Ballad of Brave 
Women. 

The Kitten of the Regi- 
ment. 

The Old Clock on the 
Stair. 

A Camp Meeting In 
Texas. 

Unseen Yet Seen. 

Midsummer. 

The Pedagogue's Wooing. 



FENNO'S FAVORITES, NO. 10.— ELOCUTION IN THE PULPIT. 



The Debating Society. 

A Dream of Song. 

Two Passengers. 

Dan Periton's Ride. 

The Kaiser-Blume. 

Making Hopkins' Last 
Moments Easy. 

La Petite Coquette. 

The Kitchen Clock. 

Dicky's Christmas. 

Haunted Castles. 

Flattering Grandma. 

The End of All. 

A Legend of Hesse. 

Examined for a Regis- 
tered Letter. 

The Forging of the Anchor. 

Lessons. 

Saved by a Song. 

The Dark Bridal. 

Beggar Jim. 

Time. 

Better Things. 

Impediment Joe. 

The Perpetuity of Nature. 

The Bell of Atri. 

The City Choir. 

Home, Sweet Home. 

The Old Minstrel. 

The Rivulet. 

Words. 

The Meekest Man. 

The Women of Mumbles 
Head. 

The Devil's Wife. 

Old Daddy Turner. 

The Ballad of Breakneck. 

The Little Middle 
Daughter. 



The Light from over the 
Range. 

Embarkation of the Pil- 
grims. 

The Lost Chime. 

"Dat ar Bill." 

Aux Italiens. 

Enchantment. 

Only a Newsboy. 

My First Love. 

The Outcast's Return. 

Beethoven's Moonlight 
Sonata. 

The Lifeboat. 

Engaged. 

A Summer Lesson. 

The Festal Day has 
Come. 

The Love-Knot. 

The Minister's Daughter. 

Greatness of the Universe. 

" Come Unto Me." 

Which was the Richer? 

The Volunteer Organist. 

Like Mother Used to 

The Fiddling Parson. 

The Engineer's Story. 

Proof vs. Argument. 

The Gray Champion. 

Hide and Seek. 

The Flag on Fort Sumter. 

The Queen's Jewels. 

At the Loom. 

The Month Of Apple 



What the Echo Said. 

ArioQ. 

A Child'sDreamof aStar. 



In the Cross of Christ I 
Glory. 

Disappointing. 

Manhood. 

Light on the Hill-Tops. 

The Punkin Frost. 

The New Pastor. 

Back From the War. 

St. Nicholas. 

Lost and Found. 

Went into Hieroglyphics. 

Eternal Justice. 

The Dying Shoemaker. 

A Day of Our Country. 

Trouble in the "Amen 
Corner." 

Indignant Nellie* 

All Hands Lie Down. 

Monument Mountain. 

To Seneca Lake. 

The World's First Wed- 
ding. 

The Gleam in the House 
of Azah. 

Only in Dreams. 

The Fate of European 
Kings. 

A Turkish Tale. 

The Evergreen Mount- 
ains of Life. 

Expression. 

The Trooper. 

John Chinaman's Protest. 

The Miseries of War. 

Song of Marion's Men. 

Sockery Kadahcut's Kat. 

Sword and Plough. 

A Reminiscence of 
Andrew Jackson. 



CHOICE DIALOGUES. 

NO. 4 CONTAINS 

Important Suggestions for the Successful Presentation of Dialogues — the Stage — the 
Curtain — Background — Footlights — Effects — Rehearsals — Prompter — Repre- 
sentation — Costumes — Between the Acts — Tableaux — Pantomimes — Shadow 
Pantomimes — Acting Ballads — The Goblin Crew — Surprising Effects — The 
Talking Head or Magical Myth. 

The Indian's Revenge. 

"De Pervisions, Clem." 

"The Wimmin's School 
of Felosophy." 

The Letter. 

The Train to Mauro. 

Katie Maloney's Phi- 
losophy. 

Auction Mad. 

The Debating Society. 

The Poet Seeking a Pa- 
tron. 

A Warning to Women. 

The Dandy. 

The Photographer. 

Scene from Leah the 
Forsaken. 

City vs. Country. 

Mrs. Sniffles' Confession. 

The Conundrum Family. 



Thirty Thousand Dol- 
lars. 

Humbug. 

Queen Vashtl. 

Cinderella. 

The Gridiron. 

The Yankee Marksman. 

The Paper Don't Say. 

The Chatterbox. 

TheCompeting Railroads. 

Sleepy Hollow Horticul- 
tural Society. 

The Will. 

No Law-Suits in Heaven. 

The Just Retribution. 

Wedding "Before De 
Wah." 

The Happy Family. 

The Female Exquisiter. 

Popping the Question. 



The Baffled Book-Agent. 

Uncle Nathan's Indian. 

The Unwilling Patient. 

The Soldier's Return. 

Courtship Under Diffi- 
culties. 

The Little Presbyterian 
Maid. 

The Conjugating German 

The Census Taker. 

"Awfully Lovely" Phi- 
losophy. 

Romance at Home. 

The Brakemanat Church. 

Pedantry. 

Rolla and Alonzo. 

O'Hoolohan's Mistake. 

Turned Him Out. 

The Heirs. 

Literary Vanity. 



NO. 8 CONTAINS 

Important Suggestions for the Successful Presentation of Dialogues — The Stage — 
The Curtain — Background — Footlights — Effects — Rehearsals — Prompter — 
Representation — Costumes — Between the Acts — Tableaux — Pantomimes — 
Shadow Pantomimes — Acting Ballads — The Goblin Crew — Surprising Effects 
— The Talking Head or Magical Myth. 



Beauty's Queen. 

A Slight Mistake. 

The Doctor's Office. 

The Lost Bracelet. 

The Statue. 

All that Glitters is not 
Gold. 

Scene from "Richelieu." 

The Excitement at Ket- 
tleville. 

Corporal Punishment. 

A School Girl's Troubles. 

Elder Sniffle's Courtship. 

Mrs. Malaprop and Cap- 
tain Absolute. 

Trial Scene from "Mer- 
chant of Venice." 

Advertising for a Servant. 

A New Year's Exercise. 

The Haunted Chamber. 

How Girls Study. 

The Disgusted Dutchman. 



Puss in Boots; or, Chari- 
ty Rewarded. 

Lessons in Cookery. 

Lochiel's Warning. 

The Rival Queens. 

Rip Van Winkle. 

Mulrooney's Mistake. 

The Debating Club. 

How Michael Fagan 
Cured his Pig. 

Winning a Widow. 

Teddy McGuire and 
Paddy O'Flynn. 

Balcony Scene from 
"Romeo and Juliet." 

The Traveler. 

The School for Scandal. 

Sandy Macdonald's Sig- 
nal. 

Pat and the Postmaster. 

Choice of Trades. 



Scene from the "Honey- 
moon." 

Floweret. 

The Death of Queen 
Elizabeth. 

Taking the Census. 

The Fire at Nolan's. 

An Easter Exercise. 

Scene from "Damon and 
Pythias." 

Watermelon Pickle. 

Scene from "The Lady of 
Lyons." 

Morning, Noon and 
Night. 

The Runaways. 

Gone with a Handsomer 
Man. 

Box and Fox. 

The Echo. 

The Flowers' Convention. 

Which is Right? 



Any of the aforementioned publications will be sent 
post-paid on receipt of price. 



EMERSON W. FENNO 

CHICAGO :: :: ILLINOIS 









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Deacidified using the Bookkeeper process 
Neutralizing agent: Magnesium Oxide 
Treatment Date: Nov. 2007 



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